House of Chaos
by DandelionOnFire
Summary: "I will have to accept that I will never return to the Seam. I will never feel forced to hunt for Greasy Sae again-there will be no possibility of me starving. I will never have to kill squirrels to trade with the baker. I eat what he eats now. I live where he lives now. Because he is supposed to be my family." Katniss's mother remarries the person she shares a past with. AU.
1. Chapter I: November

**A/N: Hi! Before we start with the actual story, I would like you to know that the idea is not exactly an original one. Sometime before the first chapter for this was posted, I accidentally came across a story with similar plot. Though, since the main ideas were much different than mine, and after receiving support from two other authors on this site, I decided to give it a shot.**

**One last note: as I've already mentioned, my mother tongue is not English, so I'd be grateful, if you considered some of my upcoming mistakes inevitable.**

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><p><strong>Title of the fanfic:<strong>House of chaos

**Summary:**[AU/New characters].What if Peeta and Katniss never were tributes in the Games? What if President Snow was dead? What if two people with a past suddenly decided to reunite? Would the members of the new family coexist or would they live in a house of chaos?

**Chapter 1:**(I)

**Genre:**Romance/ Family

**Rated:**T (13+) for violence, language, and possible future references to adult themes.

**Disclaimer:**I only own the plot and the new names of the characters. Everything else belongs to Suzanne Collins.

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><p>I walk alone. Just like I've been doing for a while now. I bury my hands deep in my pockets and kick the pebbles being in my way. I stopped waiting for her-my little sister-about two weeks ago. I don't exactly remember whose idea it was for all three of us-Prim, Peeta and I-to come back from school together, but I can guarantee I don't like it at all. From the very moment the bell rang, I put hurriedly my books in my school bag and rushed out of the school building. I don't want them to notice me. Then, I will have to be with them for fifteen excruciatingly long minutes. Now, I'm glad I have the excuse of not seeing them in the schoolyard. Even if I feel like they already know I'm doing it on purpose.<p>

I grit my teeth together as a cold breeze makes me shudder. The fall ends in a couple of days just to be replaced by the winter. And then, I will have seven more months to get used to the idea of my new family, my new home, my new life. The worst of it all, though, is that I will have to accept them, too.

I will have to accept that I will never return to the Seam. I will never feel forced to hunt for Greasy Say again, because there will be no possibility of me starving again. I will never have to kill squirrels to _trade_ with the baker. I eat what _he_ eats now. I sleep where _he_ sleeps now. I live where _he_ lives now. Because _he_is supposed to be my family.

I lower my head as I reach the well known merchant neighborhood. Everything's still alien to me. The streets, the clothes, the shops, the people. I don't belong here. With my stormy grey eyes, the olive skin and the dark brown hair, it is quite apparent I'm the daughter of a coal miner.

I could easily make my way to the bakery now and ease my hunger. But I don't feel like going to see my step father without any serious motives. Instead, I just follow the most remote and less crowded path to come face to face with the house I always wanted to admire from _afar_. I approach the door, take a deep breath and knock on it. If I'm lucky enough, my mother will be the one to open it. Mister Mellark usually works, Tyler-his second son-is out this time of the day, while Prim and Peeta-his third son-are on their way here.

The tall wooden door opens wide to reveal my mother, as I had originally expected. I try to hide my scowl as I see her relaxed face. She gives me one of her currently familiar bright smiles and greets me as always.

"Hello, Katniss," she says. I only nod in response and get in the house as she moves aside to allow me entrance. "How's your day been?" she asks cheerfully but I pretend that I heard nothing. It's not like I want her to be unhappy and miserable. I just can't get accustomed to the fact that she's suddenly decided to change her attitude towards me and Prim. Of course, my little sister has no particular problem. She's relieved her mother has finally started paying attention to her needs and wishes. For me, though…it's too late. I can't act like nothing has happened. She let us down. I still give her the right to talk to me, even though I do it only for my father. He wouldn't like me to hate her. I don't hate her. I am just not exactly able to neglect her behavior. It's how I grew up. I'm not the forgiving type.

"Please—"

"—I know, I know. The shoes," I mutter and get rid of my boots in a matter of seconds. I look up, just to see her satisfied look, vanish from her sight to climb the stairs and, eventually, get in the room Prim and I share. It was Darryl's room (the eldest son of the baker), before he moved out to live with his fiancé. This is the only Mellark I haven't talked to since the Rebellion, thanks to which we're now free from the Hunger Games as well as any other kind of oppression. I don't know the exact details about it. I'm only aware of the assassination of the President of Panem-Snow that happened about a year ago. Our history books have been changing in order to include the laws and events of the new Panem.

The indifference the Capitol showed, when they should have supported their leader, proves how weak they really were. That's how everything started. But, for me, the story started in a whole different way…

My mother getting out of the house was the main reason for this radical change. Well, it was practically mine and Prim's fault. We couldn't stand seeing her being so isolated and out of touch with the world, especially since the Hunger Games were not a threat to our Districts anymore. We took her to places, where we knew she'd feel welcome and acceptable. Of course, one of those was the Mellark's bakery. Prim always loved admiring all those cakes and sweets and inhaling the intoxicating smell the bakery gives off. When we got there, though, we never knew our mother and the baker had a past. Sure, she didn't live in the Seam when she was young, but it was still a great surprise. Suddenly they started remembering the old good days, and laughing. I was mostly startled when she agreed almost immediately to his suggestion. He had said they should have gone for a walk some time. I had expected her to find a way to decline. I was relieved with her sudden happiness. I was honestly relieved until…

…Until things turned upside down. They remembered too many things from the past. Things I didn't want them to remember. Things I didn't even want to know. They apparently had a relationship for three whole years. Mister Mellark wanted to marry her. He had planned to propose to her when the last year of their school ended, but that was when my mother fell in love with my father.

I didn't know which fact annoyed me the most; that he narrated everything in front of me, Prim and his sons while we were in the bakery or that he used a more than normal humorous tone to do that? He's not someone you can easily dislike, but his attitude often upset me. It was obvious he never really loved his ex-wife as much as he loved my mother.

And, then, the announcement of their engagement was the final stroke. It was what tore my heart into tiny pieces. He suggested we move in the same house as them so that we would slowly get used to the idea of them getting married. Even if I do get used to it, I don't plan on staying here. From the moment this year is over, I will find something useful to do. I may even move to another District. Although I am seventeen, the last year is not obligatory to attend. I never was good at anything in school, anyway.

So, that's how things are for me; my mother is getting married in the end of June, my sister is happy with it and I have thought of leaving Twelve. Perfect. Just perfect. Maybe the fact that my two best friends-Gale and Madge-left their District, too, influenced me at a great rate. Gale found a really good job in Two, while Madge followed her parents to Eight, which is undoubtedly a wealthier District.

"Katniss! Come… you…eat something… …sweetheart!" I hear half of the words my mother exclaims from downstairs. I sigh and get up from my bed, on which I've been lying as I've been thinking of…things…

I turn the knob of my door-Darryl's door-and exit the room-his room. Although I've been here for two weeks now, I haven't gotten used to either my new 'house' or my new siblings.

So, when I bump into one of them as I walk towards the stairs, I am in a complete loss of words.

"Katniss! Watch where you're going!" Tyler's tone is not accusing but it still makes me clench my fists in defense.

"Fine," I spit and push past him to get where I want to. He does something I didn't expect him to do, though. He grabs my elbow and spins me to meet his hazel eyes. I scowl. He has his mother's looks _and_behavior.

"We can't keep going this way, you know that, right?" he demands.

"Alright, then, I'm sorry," I tell him in a sarcastic tone and pull my arm away from him.

"Look, I never said I liked it, either, but things are this way now. We're not supposed to argue or ignore each other. We're siblings."

"No, we're not. And if you don't like it, then why do you care so much about what I think of you?" I argue back.

"I never said that," he reminds me.

"No, but you're implying it. Quit pretending to like me. Both of you," he frowns at that. "What?" I fold my arms to my chest as I see him close his eyes and press his two middle fingers to his one temple. He takes a deep breath and, after he opens them, he speaks again.

"You're misunderstanding some things. I never said I didn't like you, Katniss. I just said I had never asked for two more sisters. I think I can live with it now. Plus, I meant we need to fix things up instead of make them worse. I still can't understand why you're so aggressive. I mean…if we've done something you didn't want us to do, you should let us know." I lower my head as the meaning of his words sinks in. Is this how I am? Aggressive? I just…don't want to forget my dad. I want to know that at least one of us will remember him.

"I'm sorry," I whisper shyly without looking up. This time, I truly mean it. I don't apologize because I want to dismiss whatever he has to say. I apologize because, for a reason, I feel ashamed.

"Hey," he says but when I still refuse to raise my head he decides to do something that leaves me speechless; he moves closer and wraps his arms around me before I have time to protest. He actually _hugs_ me. He said we should fix things up, but…this is way too fast. I can't even consider wrapping my arms around him. I just stand there and let him have his…moment.

He eventually pulls away. I gulp before I meet his gaze. What I see there is certainly not what I expected. Instead of seeing regret for doing this not-so-bold move, I see amusement. I'm even more surprised when I realize that I'm not even mad at him for doing _that_. I never hug anyone besides Prim. Not even Gale. I'm…confused.

"See? It wasn't that bad. I don't think we'll find any difficulties in getting along with each other," he tells me before he nods his head and goes downstairs.

I'm left staring at nowhere in particular for a little while, but then decide that's not exactly a solution to make things less complicated. After a brief moment, I follow his direction and head for the kitchen, where I usually find my mother. I'm not used to how spacious this place is yet and I often find myself looking around me as well as admiring. It's embarrassing when I get distracted like that.

"Oh, Katniss, here you are. Prim and Peeta are eating their sandwiches. What do you want to eat?" she asks. My gaze travels from her to Peeta and Prim. They're sitting on the table with a sandwich in hand. Prim's laughing at something he said. I allow myself to be selfish and wonder whether they'll forget me, too, along with my already forgotten father. I suddenly feel a sharp pain in my chest. It doesn't hurt me, but it is enough to annoy me. Is that what they call jealousy?

"I'm not hungry," I reply dryly. This is a lie of course, but I can do without food for a little while. After all, this is not exactly new for me.

"You should eat something, though."

"I've eaten in school. Isn't that enough?" I try not to sound too annoyed.

"She hasn't!" Prim interrupts. My mother turns to look at me, waiting for a response. I give Prim a glare for betraying me. I instantly regret it, though. Since when do I _glare_ at her? I steal a glance from Peeta. He's been showing a particular interest for tables lately…

"What? Stop looking at me like that! It's not like it's the first time!"

"No, but since you have the privilege of eating proper meals now, I think there's no reason not to do it."

"Alright, then, mom. I will," I promise irritably and approach the fridge. She rushes towards it first.

"No, no, no, you should sit with your sister and…brother," I wince. And she's not even married yet. "I'll make you something," she adds and lets out a breathy laugh as I take some steps towards Prim and Peeta. I finally sit on a chair across from them and look at the same table Peeta did seconds ago. Now, though, I can feel him staring at me. Just like my sister.

"You weren't in our meeting spot," Prim states in a whisper. I don't know whether she's being quiet because she doesn't want mom to hear her or because she's hurt by my behavior. I hope it's the former. For both of us.

"I know," I reply in a small voice. I hate sounding weak, but I have no other choice when she's around me. I don't want her to feel like I abandoned her. I don't want _anyone_ to feel what I felt when my father died in the mining accident.

I consider apologizing for a brief moment, when I remember that I don't want to give my mother so much courage yet. I don't want her to believe that everything's better now she decided to marry the baker. Then, there's also Peeta. I don't want him to think I'm easy like his stupid girlfriend-Delly Cartwright. If she's his girlfriend, that is. I only know _she_is always all over him. I've heard her talk to the other merchant girls about him. They're all repulsing, while their conversations are boring and meaningless. Mine and Gale's conversations used to have a depth. Well, usually…

"So, how did school go today?" my mother asks us.

"Perfect! I got an A plus in Biology!" Prim exclaims happily. I give her a smile. We haven't talked for so long. Not even about school. She's always with Peeta or her friends now.

"Congratulations!" Peeta praises her gaily and places his hand on her shoulder in a friendly way. The gesture makes me narrow my eyes at him, although he's not looking at me. They start talking about how they're both doing, while I start thinking about what Tyler told me. We can't keep going this way. _I_ can't keep going this way. I'm honestly tired of hating people. I'm mainly tired of not being able to find the way to stop hating them.

Take Peeta for example. I don't know him at all and neither does he. He might be tolerable enough, since Prim hangs around with him all the time, but if you think about it better, she tolerates almost everyone. I can't imagine myself spending time with him. We seem to be completely opposites so far. Even the way he hates adding sugar in his tea-at least that's what I heard him tell mom a week ago-is something I don't exactly agree with. I don't like anything I drink or eat to taste bitter. That's why I don't drink coffee, either, though; we have enough money to afford it now.

"Katniss?" Prim calls in a concerned voice. I turn to give her a bewildered look. Great. She's been calling for me and I have been thinking of my br—_him_, anyway.

"I asked you how you've been doing in school," my mother repeats her question, although it's more of a demand now.

"Fine," I answer averting my gaze from her.

"Define fine." I look at Peeta. His head is lowered for once more. Of course. He was present when the Chemistry teacher made a scene in front of the whole classroom lecturing me about how I have no excuse not to study. "Katniss, you should study! What will you do afterwards? You only have two more years!" Looks like I never informed her about it being my last year… "You should—" I don't let her finish, though. I push my chair back and go to stand in front of her.

"Enough!" I yell at her not caring about making an impression since Peeta is here, too. I honestly don't give a damn about what he thinks of me right now.

She parts her lips to keep talking but I cut her off again.

"Don't. Just don't. You have _no right_ to tell me what to do! No right! I've been fighting _alone_for Prim and myself for so long and you suddenly decide to be _caring_ and _loving_ and all this _shi_—"

"—Katniss! I'm your mother! You shouldn't talk to me like that!"

"Don't tell me what I should or shouldn't do! Yes, I once had a mother. But I lost her seven years ago. I lost her along with my father. She _died_ with him. She's _dead_!" She lowers her head in shame. "You want me to define _fine._Well, if I asked you to define _family_what would you say? Look at Prim! You know why she's here with us? Because _I_was there for her when _you_weren't. I was all the family she had from the time dad—"

"—Katniss, stop!" Prim squeaks. That makes my anger fade away immediately. My gaze softens as I start taking deep breaths to calm myself down. She's on the verge of tears and I hate it when she cries.

"I wish you were wrong," mother mutters under her breath. "But I'm saying it for your own good. The boys have the bakery. Prim studies. What do you have? Think about it," she says.

"Actually…" I hear Peeta's voice for the first time in ages. The gentleness in it makes me look at him in interest. "Mireille, I'm sorry for interfering, but Katniss and I have already thought of a solution for her…problem," he says the last word in hesitation. I raise both my eyebrows. What is that supposed to mean? Peeta and I don't talk at all. Mother looks pretty intrigued, too.

"You have?" she asks. I catch her looking at me for confirmation with the corner of my eye but I can't afford destroying whatever he has to say. He's obviously going to lie and I never was good at that. Gale told me all the time.

"Yes, we have. We've thought of spending a few hours in the week together to study. I'll show her only the basics. The way I've been studying so far and everything," he explains. My eyes widen as I hear him speak. I gulp and finally look at my mother. She's examining me closely and I find the courage to give a nervous nod. It's nothing, really. Besides, he's not serious. He can't be. Nobody would have enough patience to teach me what I don't know. I have stopped paying attention for so long…

"Very well, then. Thank you so much, Peeta, for offering to help her. She can be really stubborn. It's a miracle you managed to get her to agree." He also gives her a nod and copies Prim's actions by starting to bite his sandwich for once more. After a while, when my own is ready, too, and mother claims she goes to wash our clothes, I sit down again and eat it. I indulge in our silence for about a minute when Prim decides to break it.

"Whose idea was it?" she wonders. We both look at her before turning to meet each other's eyes. He apparently waits for me to say something since he already did enough for me.

"You can't have possibly believed it. Peeta only made an excuse up so that mom wouldn't start lecturing me again," I explain.

"Really? It was a plausible one, though. At least I bought it. Peeta, I thought you had meant it," she tells him. He shrugs.

"I had. I still mean it. I have no problem with that," he tells me and I give him a questioning look.

"What do you mean? You're basically talking about _teaching_ me. I know nothing. How on earth will you do that?" I ask curiously.

"Don't worry. We'll find the way to work things out. I can't really tell you much about History but I'm good at Maths. How about it?"

"Wait…you're still saying…you're serious." I state.

"Yeah…?"

"Why?" I want to know. Why is he so willing to help me? Why does he want me to owe him all the time? I already owe him. I can still remember the incident with the bread. When he'd get beat up to prevent me and my family from dying.

"I don't understand…why not?" he asks. I don't answer. What can I tell him?

_I don't want to owe you anymore._

_I remember about the bread, even though you don't even know the great role you as well as that gesture of yours have been playing in my life ever since._

_I never got a chance to thank you or repay you for what you've done for me._

No, none of that is what I'd say. Not to him. Not to anyone.

I swallow. Hard, I might add.

"Okay…I…I guess…that won't be a problem with me…I mean…I…you…" his smile makes me almost suck in my breath. The only boy that's ever smiled at me was Gale.

"Good. It's settled, then," he says. Prim moves her gaze from me to him and visa versa in disbelief.

Well, she's not the one who has to believe it first, anyway. _I_ am. I'd better get used to the fact rather quickly. Stammering like I did before is definitely not a way out.

I can't help wondering whether the Mellarks agreed to take action together. Even though their behavior baffles me, I have to admit they _are_ quite influential. They sure know how to handle everything and deal with their problems.

Let's just hope Peeta won't be so eager to hug me, like Tyler did earlier…

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><p><strong>AN: I hope I didn't get Katniss too much out of character, but you need to remember she never went to the Games. This means she's less broken and devastated and of course stronger and defensive. Moreover, she never really talked to Peeta. There's no reason to make exceptions for him;) [that is something like a warning for the next chapters-if there will be any]**

**If you like it even just a little bit share your opinion with me through a review! If you don't, pretend you never read that (hit the 'back' button)**.


	2. Chapter II: November

**A/N: Hello there, awesome people!**

**As you can see, I decided to continue writing this story. Thank you for supporting me.**

**So…I'd like to thank **_**iam97, TaqiWaqi, HungerGamesLover1020, Cloud-Lover26, reader and 0.o,Miki-Chan.o.0 **_**who were kind enough to take the time to give me feedback.**

**Oh and something more…I got two requests to bring Gale back…uh…now **_**that one **_**goes against my plans…Gale is supposed to be in District Two to make a living and consequently contribute to his family's finances. He can't just **_**come. **_**Haha, don't you think Katniss and Peeta being siblings is a huge obstacle already? **_**BUT **_**I'll see what I can do to include him in the plot, even for a chapter or two.**

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><p><strong>Title of the fanfic: <strong>House of chaos

**Summary: **[AU/New characters].What if Peeta and Katniss never were tributes in the Games? What if President Snow was dead? What if two people with a past suddenly decided to reunite? Would the members of the new family coexist or would they live in a house of chaos?

**Chapter 2: **(II)

**Genre: **Romance/ Family

**Rated: **T (13+) for violence, language, and possible future references to adult themes.

**Disclaimer: **I only own the plot and the new names of the characters. Everything else belongs to Suzanne Collins.

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><p>I reach to caress one of his room's soft blue walls as I hear the door close behind him. I take some steps back and admire my surroundings. We never had such a big room in our old house. It is even bigger than the one Prim and I share right now. I only stop gawking when I realize I'm spinning around myself.<p>

I turn to come face to face with him. The way he's looking at me is different than the way the other merchant kids usually confront me. It's like deep down he understands the way I'm feeling. It's like he doesn't think I'm disgusting, filthy, worthless or some Seam brat. Of course I don't like calling myself those things but I already know what people think about me-either is it behind my back or it is in front of me. As long as they are not talking about Prim it doesn't matter.

"Is this where we're gonna study?" I ask him.

"Yeah," Peeta confirms. "Right there," he makes a quick gesture towards his desk.

"Oh," is the only thing I can come up with at the moment.

"It's not perfect but I think it will do for now. Maybe if we're not comfortable enough, we can move to the kitchen. But that's where everybody is all the time so I though…" he trails off.

"It's fine with me. I don't care," I answer truthfully. Well, at least that sounds better than other things I was considering to tell him. I'm supposed to show some decency, aren't I?

"Okay, then. I'm going to bring another chair for me. You can sit there. I'll be back in a minute," he informs me and walks out of the room. I'm actually surprised he trusts me so much. Why would he leave alone in his own room? There are so many things I don't know about him. Maybe he believes trusting people is not that hard, after all.

I sit on the wooden chair in front of the desk and run my hand over its surprisingly smooth surface. My family probably wouldn't be able to afford something like this even if father was still alive. I'm about to let out a sigh of despair when something on the wall catches my attention. I stand on my two feet for once more to take a better look. It is nothing special, really. Just a painting of the meadow. The details and the vivid colors in it, though, draw my interest. The multicolored flowers, the grass, the sky as well as the shining sun bring only one simple word in my mind; _beautiful..._

I raise my hand hesitantly to touch it but take it back instinctively. It's not my property. It's not mine. I wasn't supposed to see it, anyway.

The door opens to reveal Peeta holding a chair as he had promised. He notices I'm up and gives me a questioning look before bringing the chair next to mine.

"Why don't you have a seat?" he wonders curiously. I part my lips to tell him that I just stood up, but I don't think this will help in my case. Not really. Instead, I just nod as if telling him I agree with his suggestion.

He bends so that he will be able to open one of the drawers and get a pen and a notebook out. He places them on the table and comes to sit beside me. I raise my eyebrow at him expecting his next move. He looks me in the eyes and presses his lips together.

"Now…what?" he asks in a timid voice. I roll my eyes.

"Just…show me?" I start. His lips form an 'oh'. "Oh, come on, do you know what to do or should I go? I don't have the whole day." So much for being nice just for once in my life…

He shakes his head in a nervous motion as if to clear it.

"No, it's alright, I think I can. Could you remind me…when did you stop paying attention to the…uhm…" I think he needs some help here.

"The teachers?" I make a guess. He confirms it by nodding again. I look away from him and pretend to consider what he's just said seriously when he decides to move on.

"Never mind. Come here," he instructs and signals for me to approach him, since I'm already doing my best to stay away from his own chair. I raise both eyebrows at him making him sigh. He must be thinking it will be a lot difficult than he had originally thought.

He suddenly opens the empty notebook, takes the pen in his right hand and writes something on the first page of it. He knows I won't come any closer so he thrusts it in front of me.

"Let us start with this one. Have you heard of that before?" I lean in to take a better look.

"Yeah, I think so."

"You think so?"

"Yes. I've only heard of that, though," I admit. His chuckle makes me turn to look at him in curiosity. However, when he smiles at me, I feel obligated to pay more attention to what he's written on the paper.

"That's why we're both here," he suddenly says. I make a sound of agreement and watch him as he explains to me by giving me examples. After a while, he turns the page and writes another example. Only this time he holds the pen before me.

"Would you like to try?" he asks me waiting patiently for my response. I gaze at the pen, then at him and vice versa before grabbing it from his hands. For some reason this makes him smile again.

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><p>"Peeta." This is the third time I've called his name. He's obviously daydreaming about something. Do I even want to know what this 'something' is? Before I have time to think of anything else he comes back to reality.<p>

"Wha—huh?" he breathes. I have to fight the urge to smack my palm against my forehead before pushing the notebook to his side.

"I'm done. I told you thrice," I let him know.

"Oh. I'm sorry I was just distracted…" he replies vaguely.

"I noticed. Not that there's something to distract you…" I mumble the last part, although I know it's loud enough for him to hear.

"Right…nothing…" he mutters under his breath and checks what I've written. He notices something and shows it to me with his index finger. "Now, this should have been—"

"—it is one hundred percent correct," I tell him in defense.

"But look at—"

"—then, you were probably wrong because look at what you've wrote here," I say and show him the first page. "_This_ is how it is supposed to be." He takes the notebook closer.

"Let me check—"

"—I _told_ you, you don't need to check because—"

"—calm down! Just hold on a second! I'm not asking for a fight. I only want to make sure you learn everything the right way," he explains in a soft voice and averts his gaze for once more. I scowl and fold my arms to my chest expecting to hear what I had originally thought. In the end, I do hear it.

"You're right. I'm sorry, this was supposed to be the way you said," he confirms as he looks up to meet my gaze. After some seconds of complete silence he speaks again. "Am I forgiven?" he asks. Why does he have to make everything more complicated than it already is? I sigh before nodding. It is impossible to hate the Mellarks. Not even Dorian, who is my mother's to-be-husband.

"Good. I don't think there's something else for now. Just try paying some more attention to the teachers and everything will go just fine. I mean…you've just gotten what _I_ said, how bad can that be?" he tells me. I shrug. I couldn't care less right now. That's when I remember the painting on the wall…

"Was it expensive?" I say before I have the chance to prepare myself. I certainly didn't mean to make it sound this way.

"What? The lesson?" he asks baffled.

"Oh. Now you've said that I owe you the lesson, too. You should tell me how to pay you back some time," I answer.

"I didn't help you because I wanted a favor from you. I helped you because I wanted to. And what do you mean 'I owe you the lesson, too'? You don't owe me anything else," he says.

"I do. You just…you don't remember…it was…can we please not talk about that now?" I tell him.

"Alright. But you haven't told me what you were talking about in the beginning yet…" he reminds me.

"Oh right. I was…talking about…this," I show him the painting.

"You mean the frame? I don't really know. My dad bought it for me. Why?" I may tolerate him for now but that doesn't mean he can make fun of me whenever he wants. I glare at him. "What?" he asks even more confused. He must have seen the expression in my face.

"I obviously meant the painting," I explain. He suddenly starts laughing. "Why are you laughing? I only asked you a question," I say irritated. I push the chair back and walk towards the door.

"No, Katniss wait!" he hisses from behind me. I walk out of the room, anyway. I consider going in my own room for a while but walk almost unconsciously downstairs. I approach the living room from where I can hear my sister's voice.

"You should teach me!" she tells Tyler in an excited tone. They're both sitting on one of the couches talking.

"Primrose, I am a _terrible_ teacher! It is creepy! Besides, I don't do the frosting of the cakes," he says.

"Hey, don't call me Primrose!" she frowns playfully and he pulls her close for a quick hug. I hesitate before entering the room, too.

"Hello, little sister," Tyler greets me when he spots me. "Why don't you join us?" he asks as he makes a movement with his head showing me the armchair across from their couch. I do as he says.

"Tyler claims he doesn't do the frosting! The frosting is awesome, you are awesome so why should I believe you?" Prim teases.

"Thank you for the compliment, but I'm not the only awesome one in this family. There's also you, Katniss, Mireille, Peeta and dad."

"Well, Katniss, mom and I don't know how to bake bread let alone frost a cake. I've also asked Dorian and he told me he doesn't have the required imagination. So, that leaves Peeta," she infers.

"I'm so happy I have such clever little sisters. I wouldn't be able to handle my stupid brother all alone," he exclaims dramatically.

"Just a moment ago you said he was awesome," I say.

"Nah, it was just a moment of pure weakness. I despise him," he tells me in an as bitter as he can manage voice, although it's quite apparent he's making a joke.

"Stupid, huh? You're going to pay for that one later." I hear Peeta's voice and turn to watch him walk towards another couch.

"Pardon me? You haven't really managed to beat me up yet," Tyler answers.

"Ha. Ha. Ha. You're much weaker than you think, my dear brother."

"Now, I'm pissed. Remind me one, just _one_ time I was weak," Tyler challenges before Peeta smirks.

"Hmm…let's see…maybe it was that time I had you pinned against the couch you're sitting on and you were forced to _surrender_,_" _he lingers on the last word. I suddenly realize I find their 'fight' far more amusing than normal.

"Hey, that was so _not fair! _Darryl had my legs!" Tyler protests.

"Or maybe that time this _beautiful_ young lady named-what? _Zoe_ _Cartwright?_–yeah, that must be it. So, when _Zoe_ walked in the bakery and asked for a lovely little cake—duh! I should have gotten my chance then! You were so _vulnerable! _She wanted it for her boyfriend, anyway," Peeta mumbles the last part. Tyler's fists are clenched around a pillow. His breathing becomes more forced, slow and heavy. Peeta seems to have gotten the message because, now, he's looking at him with wide eyes.

"Just be careful not to cross the line," Tyler snarls, even though it looks like he has already done that. Peeta raises both his hands in surrender.

"I won't. Sorry. I only came to tell you that Mireille and dad called us for dinner," he says after gulping nervously.

"Is it ready?" Prim asks.

"Not yet. It'd be better if we helped them, though," he responds.

"I'm coming with you!" she offers willingly and rushes to get out of the room with him. My gaze travels from them to Tyler. He has a frown plastered on his face.

"Don't. Please, don't ask, Katniss," he tells me.

"I wouldn't. I know what it's like to have people interrogate you about something you don't even want to _think_ about," I say honestly. He stares at me for a good couple of seconds before answering with a smile.

"You know what I think you are, little sister?" he asks.

"A lonely freak? A relative of Haymitch Abernathy?" I guess making his smile widen.

"Not really. I think you're okay. And I like that." After hearing this, I can't help doing what I haven't done in months; I feel my lips curl upwards to form a wry smile. It is horrific in the best case, but it's still there.

* * *

><p>I raise my hand and wait for Miss Naylor to give me permission to speak. "Yes, Katniss?"<p>

"I have a question, Miss," I say, trying my best to sound as Peeta told me.

"Why don't you go ahead, then?"

"When are we going to take the new history books?" I ask. This is something _I_ would ask, anyway.

"Why, Everdeen? Wanna _study_?" I hear Abigayle Stones say from behind me, in a voice full of sarcasm. Her friends start giggling. I almost turn to glare daggers at their direction. _Almost._

"Abs! That's rude!" Delly Cartwright scolds her. I will never understand her. She's nice to everyone, no matter what. She reminds me of Peeta. Only…she's way more annoying than him.

Naylor taps her palm against the desk calming the whole class down.

"I'm really glad you're interested, Katniss," she turns to say to me.

"Blah, blah, blah…"

"Abigayle! Could you please let me talk with Miss Everdeen here? Thank you," she thanks Stones as she scoffs. "We'll have taken the new books by the end of December."

"Before or after Christmas?"

"Probably before."

"And what will we do now we have no books?" I wonder.

"You should be the ones to tell me your opinion. I've already thought of asking people who know better because they have witnessed events, bringing documentary films or other DVDs and similar things. I'd like to make the lesson more interesting than before. What do you think, Katniss?" I nod.

"I agree." I can't come up with anything wiser. "But it will be difficult since the mayor's daughter is not here. She could have told us her father's role in this," I suggest. She eyes the empty seat beside me with a thoughtful expression.

"You're right," she mumbles. "So, I thought that today we could—" she's interrupted by a knock on the door. "Come in!" she calls. I take that as a chance to look at Peeta for approval. He smiles and gives me 'thumbs up', receiving a slap in the back of his head by his friend. He gives him an annoyed look and I roll my eyes before turning to see what's taking Naylor so long.

She's whispering something to a tall and muscular blonde boy. I haven't seen him before…

"Okay, I'd like to have everyone's attention," she says in a loud enough voice for everyone to hear her. "I know that we haven't had any students from other Districts in ages, since the government of Panem didn't allow it, but I'd like you to behave properly to our new guest," she says and gives the boy a gentle push to introduce himself. He turns to glare at her knowing that her attention is elsewhere.

"I'm Cato Laughton. I'm from District Two," he informs us in a bored voice.

"Great. So, Cato, welcome in District Twelve. I really hope you get used to our school quickly. You will have no problems with my subject-by the way I teach History-because we don't have the new books yet. Why don't you sit beside Katniss here?" she suggests. I let out a soft groan. She could have asked me…

"Whatever," he says but does as he is told, anyway. Looks like he's not so happy about coming near me, either. Good. I wouldn't be able to stand another Delly.

Only when the class is over, do I realize where he is from. District Two. That's where Gale went.

* * *

><p>I suddenly stop writing to look at him.<p>

"You do the frosting of your bakery's cakes?" I ask him. He gazes at me surprised.

"Yeah…why do you ask?" I shake my head.

"Nothing…" but before I start writing again I ask him my next question. "And you did this?" I show him the painting. It makes sense. Even I have to admit that the decoration of the cakes is awe-inspiring.

"Yes. That's what I meant yesterday. Are you done?" he's looking at my books now. I'm not done with either my work or my questions, though.

"Why aren't you at the bakery right now?" I want to know.

"Dad told me I could stop working for the bakery if I wanted to do something different. He says he doesn't like putting limits on me. He'll hire employees." Did the witch force them to work?

"But I thought you liked baking?" it turns out as a question.

"I do. That's why I have three days off. Tomorrow is my last one. I like working there. I think there's no point in not going back," he explains.

"Oh. Is that—"

"—Prim, yes. She's calling for you. You should probably go. Besides, I want to eat something. Why don't we make a break?" he suggests.

"Okay," I agree and run to see what Prim wants. She's yelling at the top of her lungs.

"Prim! Prim, what is it?" I yell back.

"Phoooneeeeeee!" she explains. "It's for youuuuuu!" she adds in a cheery voice. I descend the stairs as quickly as I can and find her in the kitchen.

"About time! You've left your best friend waiting!"

"Wh—No way! Is it Gale?" I exclaim happily. She giggles.

"Yes, silly. Take it now," she tells me and hands me the phone.

"Gale! You got a phone!" I yell at the phone and hear him laugh.

"Hello to you, too, Catnip," he replies.

"I thought you had forgotten me. I haven't talked with Madge, either." I don't really know why I'm saying the last part. Gale and Madge never liked each other. He ignores it as expected.

"How could I forget you? I have been thinking about you Everdeen girls from the moment I arrived at Two. My mother has talked with yours, too."

"Really? She didn't tell me. How are things there?" I watch Peeta enter the kitchen with the corner of my eye. He opens a cupboard and gets two mugs out. He's probably making tea.

"You can guess that one. I even got a phone! Everything's perfect. My salary's really high in contrast to what they gave us in the mines. They have fully appreciated my contribution to their weaponry designs," he says in a proud voice.

"Weaponry designs? What do they need them for?"

"I don't know, Katniss. Maybe it's in case there's a war again."

"A war? I don't want any more wars, Gale," I whisper in fear.

"I don't think Paylor will allow it. Don't worry."

"Well, then I guess the knowledge concerning the snares _was_ quite beneficial."

"Yeah, I guess…" he makes a long pause. I sigh. "Hey! Enough about me! Tell me about your new home! I'm so glad you'll never starve again…" he says.

"I prefer my old life. Going hunting, being in the woods, feeling free, trading with Greasy Say…"

"What? You can't mean that, Catnip! After all, you can still do everything you've said!"

"What about the free part? What do I do about it?" I ask.

"I don't understand…how can you not feel free? Snow is dead. There are no Hunger Games…" he trails off. "Are they treating you badly? The Mellarks…"

"What? No! They're…they're good people and…and…"

"Good people," he repeats. "That's the only thing you have to say about them?" Gale's voice sounds like that only when he's angry. There's no reason for him to be angry.

"I don't know them yet. Tyler says I'm okay…"

"Tyler Mellark, yeah. I remember him. We had many classes together. You're not just okay, Katniss. You should know that." The fact that he's called me Katniss is enough to prove me he's serious.

"It's enough for me! All of the merchant kids think I'm a…you know what they think."

"They think many things," he agrees. "Why don't the Mellarks support you then? You're their goddamn family now!" he yells.

"They can't! At least I wouldn't like my reputation to be destroyed like that! And…I'm not their family. They're not mine, either." I spit harshly.

"They will be. In seven months," he reminds me. I groan in frustration.

"No, they won't. I won't allow it. When are you coming to Twelve?" I ask impatiently.

"Oh, you're gonna like that one…I'm coming for the Christmas holidays!"

"Really? That's…in a month! Where will you stay?"

"I don't know yet. Probably my old house. Why does it matter so much? I'll come to Twelve!" he repeats.

"Yeah, you will…" I grin.

"Katniss…you're unhappy," he accuses. I frown.

"I'm not unhappy."

"Yes, you are. I know when you're happy and when you're not."

"Alright…maybe you're right. Maybe I am…" There it is again. The sigh of longing.

"If this helps…I miss you, Catnip…" he whispers. I close my eyes and lean against the wall, my head making a soft sound when touching it.

"I miss you, too, Gale," I whimper. The sudden sound of glass crushing to the ground makes my eyes flutter open and turn to look at the culprit. It's Peeta. I was so caught up in the moment; I had completely forgotten he was here, too. One of the mugs is now on the floor, broken, while its contents are spilled all over it. The other one is on the counter, safe and sound.

"Uh…Gale…I should probably hang up now…"

"Right, okay, we'll talk soon. Maybe I'll call you before Christmas."

"Uh-huh. Maybe _I_ will."

"Do that. Especially if something wrong happens with your _family_ or anyone. I'll try to be there for you," he tells me.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight." I don't give him the chance to say anything else. I hang up and run to help Peeta.

"Peeta!" I kneel down as I see him do the same, careful not to touch any of the broken pieces or the hot tea and take a look at him. His eyes are focused on his hands which are resting on his lap. It's like he's…lost.

"Peeta?" I call. He raises his head to meet my eyes. I've seen this _look_ so many times. My mother, Prim, Gale and his family, all the kids from the Seam…I've learned how to recognize it but never how to deal with it. I'm quite surprised I see Peeta this way, though. I never imagined him like that. I never imagined him in _pain_.

He's not _lost_. He's _hurt_.

"This…this was my tea. You can drink your own. It has sugar in it," he says in a shaky voice before standing up numbly as well as making his way out of the kitchen.

I try to recall Gale and I's conversation. The only thing that could upset Peeta is that I don't want to be a part of his family. If that's the problem, it really doesn't matter. He wouldn't get anything useful from me, anyway. It would be more rational, if it was the other way round. I _can_ get things from him.

I shake my head, pushing these thoughts aside. I need to concentrate on what is in front of me at the moment.

I seriously need to clean this mess up.

* * *

><p><strong>*sheepish smile*<strong>

**Thanks for reading chapter two! **

**Gaahhhh! It's so annoying there is no relationship between them! I can do nothing major or dramatic happen! At least not yet...**

**Now that you know I will continue this story…why don't you give me some feedback? I assure you, it's not that hard. One word is enough for me!:)**


	3. Chapter III: November

**A/N: Hola, my favorite readers;)**

**Thank you so much for the lovely reviews! I'm happy you like the story so far and**_**of course**_**give me your support. Some of you may already know the crazy feeling you get when you update. I personally drive myself mad. I'm like 'Why on earth did I post this chapter?' or 'What if nobody likes it?' or 'Should I delete it now?' and the list goes on… The messages from Fanfiction, though…they make my whole day…**

**If you have any specific requests you should let me know (you can review or PM me), even though I can't guarantee anything. Take for example Gale, Katniss and Peeta. I am in no way making it a love triangle, though, Gale remains in my plans.**

* * *

><p><strong>Title of the fanfic:<strong>House of chaos

**Summary:**[AU/New characters].What if Peeta and Katniss never were tributes in the Games? What if President Snow was dead? What if two people with a past suddenly decided to reunite? Would the members of the new family coexist or would they live in a house of chaos?

**Chapter 3:**(III)

**Genre:**Romance/ Family

**Rated:**T (13+) for violence, language, and possible future references to adult themes.

**Disclaimer:**I only own the plot and the new names of the characters. Everything else belongs to Suzanne Collins.

**Special thanks to (for reviewing):**Cloud-Lover26, HungerGamesLover1020, anonymous reviewer, TaqiWaqi, peetamellarkbuns, iam97, teampeeta4ever and Peeta All The Way.

* * *

><p>I gobble up the last bit of the toast Mr. Mellark made for me just five minutes ago and stand up from my chair to wash the plate in the kitchen sink. I hear his footsteps as I rub the sponge against the dish.<p>

"I'm going to the bakery now, Katniss. Do you need anything else?" he asks. I turn the faucet off and turn to reply.

"No. Thanks for the offer, Mr. Mellark but I'm not exactly used to eating so many things, especially early in the morning," I explain.

"You can call me Dorian, you know. It's been—what? Four weeks?" he tells me with a smile.

"Three and a half actually," I correct him with a thoughtful expression. Seconds later I realize he's still waiting for me to accept or reject him. "Yeah, I don't think this will be a problem," I finally answer after sighing. He nods.

"Okay, then. I'd better go. I'm already late," he says before greeting me and exiting the kitchen. I approach the window and look through the glass of it, watching him go away in the dark. The sun hasn't risen yet. I'm actually surprised the bakers are able to wake up this early every single day without any exceptions. I can't imagine myself as a baker. Not only am I completely unable to bake, but also to leave the warmth of my bed so that I will do what Tyler and Peeta do—or did, anyway. I shiver at the thought. I never was a morning person. I only wake up earlier than normal because of a nightmare. Or…because of too much thinking in my case…

I honestly have no idea of what to do with my brothers. I don't really care about Dorian-he and my mother will eventually do what _they_ want. They didn't even warn us or ask us whether we'd feel comfortable whilst living in the same house, so why would they ask for our opinion now?

On the other hand, something about Tyler and Peeta makes me feel guilty. I'm so unfair towards them both. Of course I always prefer keeping my distance but still. None of them _wanted_ to have two more sisters. Tyler told me so himself. He has accepted us but it couldn't have been what he would normally ask from his father. Peeta didn't want that, either. Sometimes, for some brief moments, he looks as if he doesn't want that, not even now. He's been a total mystery, especially since Gale called. In fact, things have gone the way they were for once more. He comes back from school with Prim, he pretends that I don't exist when his friends are around him and he avoids going where I go in the house or engaging me into conversation.

I muffle a small yawn with my palm and move to open one of the cupboards. I make a grimace as I realize that I probably opened the wrong one. I don't even bother to check the next, since I already know the glasses are either in the one I've just opened or in the one higher. I sigh and prepare myself to stand on the tips of my toes so that I will be able to reach whatever is in there but groan as I realize my efforts are futile. My gaze lingers on the glasses in the sink.

_Maybe I will have to wash one of those._

This is the first thing crossing my mind before I hear loud footsteps from behind me. It is either Tyler or Peeta. Mother and Prim don't usually walk like that. I turn around to see Peeta-as I had guessed-coming towards me. At first, when he's looking at me, I think he came to tell me something. But, honestly, who in their right mind would stand up at half past six in the morning just to talk to their…step sister?

When he keeps his gaze focused on the cupboard I was struggling to open earlier, I see that he's much cleverer than that. I watch him reach for it without any difficulties, take a glass out, fill it with water and bring it to his lips to quench his thirst. He notices I'm staring at him and gives me a weird look. He withdraws the glass from his mouth and holds it in front of him.

"What is it?" he asks in curiosity. I unconsciously lick my lips before returning my gaze to the cupboard. "Oh," he laughs. "Sorry, I didn't know what you wanted to do. But you can also find glasses in…" he opens the cabinet just below it. "…uh…apparently not," he says as he sees they are indeed missing and takes another one for me. "Here you are," he offers. I take it slowly from his hands, my knuckles brushing against his.

"Thanks," I whisper and copy Peeta's earlier actions before sitting on one of the chairs. I take the glass in both my hands and examine it in an abstracted manner.

"Hungry?" I almost jump from my seat at the sudden sound of his voice. I shake my head. "Neither am I," he announces. I raise my eyebrows.

"Why would you ask, then?" He shrugs and comes to sit across me.

"I don't know. I thought it would sound more…nice…"

"So…this is about you pretending to be nice," I tell him.

"Pretending? Why pretending?" he wants to know.

"Nothing. Just drop it. It doesn't matter," I say.

"Well, it matters to me," he tells me in an annoyed voice.

"Why _does_ it matter so much? What _I_ think, I mean."

"It's not about you. It's about everyone. I want them to know how I feel about them. Don't you want people to know what you feel?"

"Not really. I don't _feel_. I believe this has nothing to do with feelings. And…no…I don't care about what the others think. I am who I want to be," I explain.

"You didn't tell me yet, though," he reminds me.

"Tell you what?" I ask innocently.

"When you start a sentence you usually have to finish it. This is rude." I give him an irritated look.

"I never was the _nice_ one," I let him know.

"I beg to differ here," he says letting the muscles of his face relax. I feel myself calm down, too.

"What do you mean?" I manage to ask.

"I mean that the way you talked to Miss Naylor a couple of days ago _was_ nice. The way you talk to Prim _is_ nice." Surprisingly enough, from the moment he finishes his last comment, guilt overcomes me.

_Prim…_

He's hit a nerve here. I've been different towards her since we came here.

"No, it's not," I mutter, my voice cracks in the end. He gives me a questioning look.

"What are you talking about? I've seen you…you always were like a mother to her. You always took her side when her classmates were making fun of her for the situation she was in when—"he cuts himself off before taking the chance to say anything more. It's obvious he's waiting for my reaction. How does he know all these things about Prim and I? Peeta didn't know I existed before we were forced to live together… So…_how?_

"When…?" I press him. He shakes his head.

"Never mind," he mumbles. I nod since I know that right now I don't have the right to ask for answers. I haven't told him what's in my mind, either. I feel it is fair enough.

We stay in a comfortable silence, staring at the table or our hands, for about one minute before he decides to break it again.

"Say something," he mutters. I don't even bother to look him.

"Like what?" I wonder.

"Like…I don't know. Anything. What do you think every time…every time you see me?" he asks. The question takes me by surprise. What is that supposed to mean now?

"I don't know." I despise thinking, especially at that time of the day.

"You don't? For example…you don't feel disgusted you're my sister. And you don't think you never want to consider yourself a member of my family," he states, making me recall my conversation with Gale. He's obviously overheard, although I know it wouldn't be possible for him _not_ to.

"Actually, I know I don't want to consider myself a member of your family. I will never-_ever_-in my life allow the others to call me Mellark. This will happen only when my mother and your father break up," I reply harshly. We both know that mom and Dorian are never going to break up after their current reunion. I believe it's a good enough example for him to understand how serious I am.

"They won't make you. You and Prim will still keep your last name, Katniss," he tells me as if I don't know it. That's not exactly what I meant, though. What I meant is that I don't even want to _consider_ myself part of the Mellark family. I don't _belong_ in the Mellark family. "I just…I don't understand why you hate m—us so much," he says. He told me he doesn't care what _I_ think about him. But…how am I supposed to believe him if he's making it obvious it is indeed personal?

"I don't hate you," I whisper. "It is just difficult for me. I know you can't understand me. You and Tyler never _really_ will. Besides, this is not the first thing I think of when I see you," I admit being, at the same time, perfectly aware of what's coming next.

"And what would that be?" he wonders.

"I remember…I remember that I owe you. I owe you my life."

"What are you talking about? I didn't do anything," he tells me puzzled.

"I know you don't—Peeta, I can't forget about the bread," I eventually decide to tell him. After some seconds of letting my words sink in, I finally see something in his eyes. A faint recognition…

"Oh, you say that you still remember about the…it doesn't matter so much. I mean…I would have done that for anyone. I couldn't watch you starve to death," he rushes to let me know.

"I don't understand you…"

"Which part don't you understand? What would _you_ have done if you were me? Would you let any of the Seam kids die?" he challenges.

"So, that's your real motive; pity for the kids from the Seam," I assume. He groans and runs a hand through his hair.

"I only gave you this example because you wouldn't have done anything for those who _had_ something to eat. What would you give to Abigayle Stones?" I glare at the table.

"Nothing," I say through my teeth.

"Exactly! That's my point! I knew you needed the bread! Just like you would know if someone needed something and you could give it to them!" he explains. I'm still bewildered, though.

"So…you say…that you're a hypocrite," I say. He must be confused, too, now. He's looking at me as I've just said the most extraordinary thing he's ever heard.

"A hypocrite?" he repeats. "Katniss, a hypocrite is—"

"—I know what the word means, Peeta. I can see how you all behave in school. Have you ever wondered how the kids from the Seam feel when you talk to them like…like Stones does? I can see the people you hang around with. You can't be different if you enjoy their company! So, why would you pretend you want to help someone from the Seam?" He lets out an exasperated sigh.

"You're confusing many terms. If you want to believe I'm like them, then…I don't know. It is not exactly my problem. The only thing I know is if I had let you down that night, I wouldn't have been able to live with that afterwards. So, no, you don't owe me anything at all. I don't want anything from you." I part my lips to argue back but he raises his palm making me stop. "It's not like I don't know what you're worth or what you can do. It is just like you've said some minutes ago. You're under much pressure. They force you to be part of a new family without even asking you. Trust me. It's not better for me."

"I never said I'm under pressure," is the only thing I can say. He hasn't left me any other choice. He's actually made me believe he's…right. It gets on my nerves. No one has ever managed to change my opinion. I can't let him do it, either. Not now, not _ever_.

"Didn't you mean it?" he asks. I nod in hesitation. Is that what I want to do at half past six in the morning? Fight with Peeta? I won't be surprised if we've already woken anyone.

"I guess that was a wrong question to ask." Suddenly, I am _that_ close to asking him what _he_ thinks of when he sees me. For some reason, though, this seems like a really bad idea. I don't know what to call it-instinct maybe-but it's enough to make me keep my mouth shut.

"Have you studied for the test in Chemistry?" I ask all of sudden surprising both him and myself. After getting over his shock he finally manages to raise his eyebrows questioningly.

"Yes…? Have you?" he wonders. I nod.

"Yeah, I have. I want to see Brown's face when he realizes I've actually _studied_ for his subject." I smirk.

"Well, that's a first," he tells me amused. It is scary how quickly our mood can change. We're fighting and then…being…_civil_ to each other…

"That's not a first at all. I honestly wish I could have my arrows and shoot him every time he—"he's looking at me with wide eyes. "Okay, I may not be nice but I guess that sort of crosses the line…" I add, equally amused.

"Right…I should bear in mind not to make you _too_ angry…" he mumbles as if making a mental note for himself.

"You haven't managed that one. Not yet." It's my turn to mutter to myself.

"I don't think I'll ever try, anyway…" My lips form something that probably looks like a sly smile. No, Peeta. You'd better _**not**_ try me.

* * *

><p>I throw the bags Prim gave me moments ago on my mother's bed.<p>

"What are you doing, Katniss? I told Prim to give them to you. They're your new clothes," she tells me.

"Mom…I don't want them. I don't need new clothes."

"But we've already bought them! We can't just give them back! Have you at least taken a look?"

"No, I don't need to take a look. We can't give them back but we can still give them somewhere!" I yell.

"Don't even think about it. Besides, Prim chose those clothes for you. She would feel bad, if she knew—"

"—Can you at least stop using Prim to get to me?" I say. She shakes her head in disapproval of what I've just said but I know better. When she starts walking towards the door, I can't seem to be able to restraint.

"Is this how you'll be confronting me and what I say from now? By running away every time you know you're wrong? By changing the topic? By pretending that you don't hear me every time I say something you don't have the strength to deal with?" I shout at her. She immediately halts while I try to find the rhythm to breathe properly for once more. That lasts only a brief moment, though.

"You should see the dresses. The violet one is my favorite. Prim likes the white," she tells me before getting out of the bedroom. She couldn't be clearer than she was right now. This is how she'll be facing me and I obviously have to get used to her. My new mother. Am I even supposed to call her my mother now?

I let out a strangled cry and fall to my knees curling slowly against the wood of the bed.

"Katniss!" Prim runs to fall awkwardly beside me. Peeta follows.

"Prim, wait! Maybe we shouldn't…" he pauses when he sees me accepting my sister's comfort, wrapping my arms around her and burying my face in her beautiful blonde hair that's now falling in soft waves.

"Oh, Katniss…why? Why do you have to be like that? Do you think mom wanted to leave us?" she says.

"She still left us, Prim. I'm sorry…I don't think I can ever forgive her."

"She has regretted it! Katniss, think about it!"

"You think I haven't? You think I haven't been up for nights trying to figure some good reasons out in order to forgive her? I always go back to what she did, Prim! I always have you in my mind crying for her to come back to us! I always have that night in my mind! The one I almost died! What would you do if Peet—I…if…" I instantly stop myself before I say something I'll regret later. Prim doesn't know about the bread Peeta gave me six years ago. I don't think I'd like her to be told about that now. I look at Peeta. He gets that as permission to talk, although I never really intended on giving him that.

"Katniss, I don't say you're wrong but…what will _you_ do when you become a mother?" I snort. Prim breaks the hug to examine us both.

"A mother?" I repeat in a sarcastic tone.

"Yeah…what's wrong with this?" he asks but I'm determined not to answer this one.

"Katniss doesn't want kids. She doesn't even want to get married," she explains. He turns to look at me surprised.

"You don't?"

"She always told me she didn't want her children to be reaped," Prim adds.

"But…there are no Hunger Games now," he tells me in a matter-of-fact tone.

"No. You don't know about the future, though. How can you be so sure everything's over? What if something happens to Paylor? What will we do then? What will _I_do if I have children?" I say. I'm lying _again_. That's not the real reason I don't want kids. I don't even want to think about it. "After all, love is a waste of time."

"No, it's not. You know that yourself. Don't you love Prim?" he asks.

"Wha—what kind of question is that? Of course I love her," I say hurriedly.

"See? No need to be so hasty to judge," he tells me.

"Peeta is in loooovee!" Prim says in a sing-song voice.

"What? I never said that! I just support what Katniss doesn't."

"No need to be so defensive…we already know about you and Cartwright," I tell him while rolling my eyes.

"Me and Cartwright? What are you talking about?"

"Oh come on…" Only I wish I could think of a way to get rid of this annoying feeling…I don't feel like talking about Delly. At all. My sister has other plans, though…

"Delly? Really? You never told me! You'd make a good couple," she says thoughtfully.

"Whoa, whoa, time out, sister. First of all I'm not _in_ love. It's just a crush. And _secondly_it is in no way Delly Cartwright. She's my friend and everything, but I don't really think I can stand her as my…girlfriend…" I exhale louder than intended making Peeta and Prim turn to look at me. I always thought this word was ridiculous. Girlfriend…

"I'll just…" I get up, take a last look at the plastic bags with what Prim and mother bought for me and take some steps towards the exit. "…go," I add.

"No, Katniss, wait! Will you please at least try the white dress?" Prim begs.

"What? No, Prim. I don't wear dresses and you know it."

"Exactly! Don't you think a change would be nice? I want to see you in a dress. So, pleeeaseee? Pleeasee? For meee?" she makes this puppy dog face again. I hate it when she tries to control me like that.

"Prim. No," I say.

"So…we'll never see you pregnant or in a dress…" Peeta mumbles.

"That's right," I agree and exit the room before Prim has the chance to do something more drastic.

"Don't worry, Prim. You want a pregnant Katniss in a dress? You'll have a pregnant Katniss in a dress," I hear Peeta tell Prim. My eyes widen. What does he mean? I approach the door again. This time I stay out of their sight, though.

"How?" my sister asks.

"Be patient. You'll see soon enough. Just give me…a week or so…"

"To persuade her to get in a dress…and get pregnant?" he laughs.

"No, actually. It's way easier than that."

"Don't try anything stupid! I heard you, you know!" I yell. His response is more laughing. Prim joins him soon enough.

* * *

><p>"What? Why a C? I answered all the questions!" I protest. Mr. Brown walks towards my desk.<p>

"Because it is obvious you _cheated_ Miss Everdeen. What I can't stand is _cheating_."

"Cheating? How is it possible for me to cheat?" His gaze moves to Cato. This is his answer. I turn to glare at my new classmate's paper.

"An A! You can't be serious!" I shriek through my teeth.

"Mr. Brown can I say something, please?" I hear Peeta's voice from the other side of the classroom.

"You don't need to say anything, Mr. Mellark. I believe an A minus is a decent mark."

"But, Mr. Brown, Katniss studied for the test! She didn't cheat!"

"Miss Everdeen doesn't need a lawyer. She knows perfectly well what she did," he tells him. I scoff. Great. I knew I shouldn't have studied from the beginning.

By the end of the class, I have realized that Peeta managed to find the courage and defend me when I didn't do it myself. Do I owe him that, too, now?

When the bell rings, Cato gathers his things and prepares to leave. Before he does, though, he finds speaking to me a brilliant idea.

"Good afternoon, Everdeen."

"Good afternoon," I grumble clenching my one fist to my side.

"By the way…" he comes where I'm standing and leans over me.

"What are you doing?" I spit angrily. His index finger comes closer to my face. He runs it over my jaw line and then keeps it on my lips, before I push it away.

"I'm thanking you."

"For what, may I ask?"

"For the test. I wouldn't have made it without you," he tells me seductively and winks before turning on his heel to leave. I honestly feel like vomiting now.

I growl and gather my own things. I don't forget to glare at my classmates staring at me, before I also exit the classroom.

"Katniss! Katniss!" I hear Miss Naylor's voice. I halt to wait for her to walk towards me. "I know you are supposed to go home now but I'd really appreciate it, if you helped me with something concerning History. You're the only one able to communicate our previous mayor's daughter." I try my best to remember one of the phrases Peeta taught me so that I will be likeable and acceptable from the teachers. However, I can come up with nothing at all. So, I decide to nod my head. She sighs in relief.

"Thank you so much. It will only take half an hour, anyway. Can you come with me now?"

"Yes, Miss," I tell her. This is the only thing I always remember to say.

* * *

><p>I've already started doubting that studying <em>helps<em>. I could do nothing more than nod every time Naylor showed me something or talked to me about something. I always had to agree. In the end she said that she knew we'd eventually find the way to cooperate. I truly hope it was just a joke…

I knock on the wooden door. If I want to come home all alone, I guess I need to get my own keys some time…

I hear running from behind the door and I immediately know it's Prim. My assumptions are confirmed when my sister finally opens it.

"Hey, little duck," I greet her. I haven't used this nickname in a long time. I always loved teasing her about the little 'tail' of hers when she was wearing long shirts.

"Katniss! Where have you been?" she asks obviously worried.

"I was in school. The teacher of History wanted to talk to me. Why, what's—"

"—Peeta's hurt," she says.

"What? How do you mean?" I ask and get in the house so that she will be able to close the door. "And what does this have to do with me?" I wonder almost immediately. She doesn't reply. Instead, she only walks to the living room, with me following her.

"Katniss! You're here, thank God!" Peeta exclaims from the moment he sees me. I grimace. Is it just me or is he exaggerating?

My footsteps are steady as I approach him. He's holding something that's hiding his nose.

"What happened?"

"You're home late," he accuses.

"So what? What happened?" I insist.

"Are you okay? Are you…hurt…?" he asks.

"Will you stop being an idiot and answer my damn question?" I yell. He goes silent. Tyler comes in the room chuckling.

"That's it, little sister. Teach him a lesson. Tell him what happens when you, out of nowhere, punch the new guy who's been trained to kill for his whole life," he says.

"A Career?" I make a guess to see Tyler nod in confirmation. "You punched _Cato_?" I turn to Peeta now. When he still refuses to answer, I grab the thing he's holding just to find out it is icy cold and full of his blood. His nose is red, too.

"Why did you do it?" I thrust it in his face with more force than intended. He groans in pain. "Sorry," I mutter and take my hand away when I realize I'm still touching his nose through the fabric which apparently contains ice.

"Because he's stupid," Tyler answers for me. Prim nods in agreement.

"I'm not stupid!" Peeta protests. I fold my arms to my chest.

"Oh really, Peeta? What were you thinking, anyway?" I grunt.

"You," he tells me as if it is the most logical answer he could give me. He soon realizes it, though. He blushes and struggles with his words. "Uh…I…I meant…it didn't exactly come out as I wanted," he admits.

"What did you mean, then?" I wonder, much more curious for his answer now.

"You don't know what he said about you! You'd…you'd freak out! I was disgusted at him!" he yells all of sudden.

"That's not a real reason," I say.

"Well, it is for me! I don't want people to talk this way about my family!"

"I'm not—"

"—just save it, Katniss. I really don't care about what you think right now. If only you heard him…"

"Why don't you enlighten me, then?" He shakes his head.

"Oh come on, Peeta, was it that bad?" Tyler asks. His expression is more serious than usual.

"Yes, it was. But I won't be the one to tell you. The whole school will know by tomorrow morning, anyway." I groan at the thought.

"Why don't you get it over with? So that she won't be completely unprepared," Tyler says. Prim just listens to us talking.

"It's okay. I can deal with it," I assure them both. "Prim, where's mom?" I ask.

"She's coming in a minute," she informs me.

"Good. Because he's bleeding and I have no idea of how to handle it."

"That's why I'm here, too," she reminds me.

"Yeah, right…" I tell her. "At least he won't be able to make me wear a dress or sleep with anyone by the end of the week." He smirks at my comment.

"Who told you, you need to sleep with anyone to be pregnant?"

"Huh?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to let you know that my nose has nothing to do with this. I promised, didn't I, Prim?" he asks. She grins.

Why do I feel like I'm not going to like what he's planned at all? Well, maybe because it is about me being pregnant _and_ wearing a dress...

Anyway, he still hasn't told me what Cato said that upset him so much… It doesn't mean I won't know by tomorrow morning, though. It is just like he said. The whole school will know by then.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Okay, so in case you were wondering;**_**relax**_**! Katniss won't get pregnant in this story. Now that I'm thinking better about it…it doesn't even matter. Don't pay so much attention;)**

**Thanks for reading chapter three! Do you see this little blue button right below my username? Why don't you click on it and tell me your opinion? ****I'd highly appreciate it!**


	4. Chapter IV: November

**A/N: So…you've probably noticed that my chapters have no titles…I considered it more important to let you know **_**when **_**they take place instead of **_**what **_**they contain. Besides, you'll always be able to figure that one out every time you read. Anyway, I'll probably have some chapters about November and December but I will speed everything up once I've **_**tampered **_**with Peeta and Katniss's relationship…just a little **_**tiny**_**bit…;)**

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><p><strong>Title of the fanfic:<strong>House of chaos

**Summary:**[AU/New characters].What if Peeta and Katniss never were tributes in the Games? What if President Snow was dead? What if two people with a past suddenly decided to reunite? Would the members of the new family coexist or would they live in a house of chaos?

**Chapter 4:**(IV)

**Genre:** Romance/ Family

**Rated:**T (13+) for violence, language, and possible future references to adult themes.

**Disclaimer:**I only own the plot and the new names of the characters. Everything else belongs to Suzanne Collins.

**Special thanks to (for reviewing):**Cloud-Lover26, HungerGamesLover1020, team peeta all the way, TaqiWaqi, iam97 and yeeeitscarmen.

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><p><strong>Peeta's POV<strong>

* * *

><p>I watch Prim rub her eyes while walking blindly to her room as if she's hypnotized.<p>

"I told you, you shouldn't have stayed up this late. How are you going to wake up tomorrow? We have school," I remind her.

"Yeah, I know…But I don't like sleeping when I know I have the opportunity to stay up," she lets me know. I shake my head. She's so much like her sister when it comes to those things. Katniss claimed she was tired and went to bed much earlier but it was quite obvious she was lying. In fact, it is quite obvious _every time_ he's lying. I can sense that something is really missing, just like yesterday, when we talked about her having children. The Hunger Games were not a plausible excuse, anyway.

"Goodnight Peeta," Prim says in a sleepy voice. I chuckle and take some steps forward to capture her in my arms. She wraps her own around me before accepting my small kiss on her forehead and, eventually, letting go.

"Goodnight, sister. Don't let the bed bugs bite," I tease. She giggles as she waves for a last time and vanishes from my sight.

I sigh and head for my own room, wondering at the same time whether I'll be able to sleep tonight or not. The girl I've had a crush on since I can remember myself lives in the same house as me. How am _I_ supposed to sleep when I know _she_ sleeps here, too? I run a hand through my messy hair and enter my room to find a really pleasant…surprise there. Tyler hasn't been in my room, sitting on my bed, in ages. The look he's giving me terrifies me. It means he wants to talk with me.

"Tyler," I say, the tone of my voice making my surprise even more clear.

"Peeta," he addresses me. I know what I have to do now. I turn my back on him to close the door, before walking to sit beside him. My gaze falls on something he's holding. Something _mine_…

He picks it up and shakes it in front of me, telling me I need to give some explanations. Instead of answering, I rush to grab it from his hand and hold it closer to me.

"This is personal," I state, although I'm well aware that he already knows it. He nods.

"I see. Why did you have to make it _that_ personal?" he wants to know.

"What are you talking about? It isn't _that_ personal. I just meant it was my property. I never really get in your room and get things without your permission," I protest.

"Yeah, sure, only it wasn't in your room. I found it in the table, in the kitchen. You're actually pretty lucky nobody saw it before me," he says. My eyes widen.

"You what? Anyway, it's…it's nothing. Just drawings," I say to convince more myself than him.

"Uh-huh. They're just drawings. So…you tell me you're not a stalker," he says with his one eyebrow higher than the other.

"A stalker? What are you talking about?" I ask, trying to sound as oblivious as I can. I can't afford letting my brother know. Not now _she's_ our sister. It would literally bring chaos in the house.

"I'm gonna ask you a question and I want you to be honest," I swallow. I swear I can practically hear my heart beating like crazy inside my chest. I know what he's going to ask me. He's going to ask me about her; _Katniss_.

"I'll…I'll try to…"I stutter.

"You knew dad and Mireille had a relationship when they were younger, didn't you?" I immediately let out a sigh of relief. I was expecting the worse. I nod nervously.

"Yes, I knew it since I was five," I tell him truthfully.

"Five? You mean…five years old?" he hisses in disbelief.

"Uh…yes?"

"Peeta, honestly, why would dad tell you he wanted to marry Mireille when you where _five_? Who in their right mind would do that? And what would you understand, anyway?"

"A lot of things. I still remember it, don't I? Would you believe me if I told you I can recall the exact words he chose to tell me that day?" I say trying to make myself feel more comfortable for once more.

"What did he say?" he wonders, making it obvious he's pretty intrigued by what I have to say next. I give my head a shake.

"It doesn't matter. He told me because he had seen Katniss."

"Oh, that's what I wanted to ask. Since when have you been watching the Everdeen girls? I have already seen this," he points at my pad, which looks more like a book full of drawings, again.

"I haven't been watching them or stalking them as you've said before. I just…they're both pretty interesting characters…you're not a painter. I can't make you understand…" I lie. I_can_ make him understand but I don't want to. I don't want to enter this all too familiar forbidden territory. I don't dare to come close to the issue called 'Katniss'.

"Well, why don't you try, Peeta? What about their character? If I'm not mistaken you don't paint their characters. You paint their faces," he says.

"Yeah, but I don't think I can draw just…_anyone_…Sometimes I portray also their inner world…_if_ you know what I mean."

"That's the problem. I do know what you mean. We go back to what I asked before. The fact that you know how to paint them or draw them leads me to conclude that you _know_them. I barely know them because three and a half weeks are _not_ enough for me to—"

"—wouldn't you have noticed them, had father talked to you instead?" I challenge, already knowing his answer. He lowers his head.

"Yeah…I believe I would have…" he trails off and stops talking for a couple of seconds, before looking up to ask me his next question. "How do you feel he let you know? I mean…are you glad you…paid so much attention to them before they came here?" His question catches me off guard. The truth is that I don't really know whether that was in my favor or not. Even if it was, it doesn't matter. It certainly isn't now. "Well?" he presses.

"Well what? I don't know, Tyler! I don't know!" the volume of my voice is higher than normal. I take some deep breaths trying to prepare myself for what I _want_ to come next. Not what _he_ wants. I never really asked for control. It's my only choice now, though. If I want to get over my obsession over Katniss, that is.

"You think it's easier for you?"

"Easier? In what way?" I wonder.

"Do you feel comfortable around them? Do you sleep well, knowing they live exactly where _you_ live?" he asks. No, Tyler. I don't sleep _at_ _all_. "Not that I don't like them," he rushes to add.

"I understand what you mean. Yes, it is a bit difficult for me, too," I lie. _Or a lot more difficult than you could ever imagine._

"You know what I think? I think Mireille and dad should have told us something first. I knew they were preparing us for something but I never thought they'd make us cohabit," he admits.

"You're right. If I could vote against their mar—th-the-I mean their-our…our living together, I would" I manage to say in the end. Could I be more stupid? I was _this _close to saying 'marriage'!

"Me, too," he agrees. "Just be careful, brother," he tells me as he stands up.

"Be careful? Of what exactly?"

"Of everything. If I was someone else or if I didn't know better…I'd say you look at them in a whole different way than a brother should do with his sisters—sister actually. I'm mainly talking about Katniss. I don't say it is something personal but…you know she's seventeen, she's more grown up than Prim and…she's—look, let's just not complicate things. Let's keep them the way they are," he suggests with a worried expression. I suck in my breath. Should I take it as a warning? Is he as confused as he sounds or is he implying something more about Katniss?

"Alright," I mutter.

"Goodnight, Peeta," he says as he walks towards the exit.

"Goodnight, Tyler." He nods and gets out of my room, leaving me alone for one more agonizing night.

What will I dream of this time? Will I dream at all? Maybe I'll have a nightmare including my worst fear; falling in love with Katniss Everdeen.

* * *

><p><strong>Katniss's POV<strong>

* * *

><p>The way they're all looking at me as I head for an empty table with the tray full of my lunch in my hands is annoying. The way they're whispering as I walk their way is annoying. The way they all give me sympathetic looks is annoying. But most the most annoying thing of it all is that they don't even dare to pack up the courage and come to <em>talk<em> to me. They're all staring from a safe distance. That is until Delly Cartwright decides to take her own tray and come to sit with me.

"Hey, Katniss," she greets me cheerfully.

"Delly," I breathe. She obviously waits for me to keep talking but, of course, she has no such luck. That's why I appreciated Madge's company so much. We never were forced to _babble_.

"Katniss, why are you sitting here all alone?" she asks. I shrug.

"Why not? It's not like I have someone to be with," I admit.

"You don't? You know you can always come with us. I've talked with Abs and she agrees. Besides, you won't feel that uncomfortable. Your brother is with us," she tells me and shows me Peeta with a movement of her head. No, Delly. This is why I _will_ feel uncomfortable. I don't want people to think I'm weak enough to let my 'brother', who's not even my family, protect me.

"I'm okay here," I say sternly.

"Alright. Then, I'll stay with you," she lets me know with one of the most annoying smiles. I honestly want to rip it off of her annoying face. "But I still don't understand how you can be here alone," she adds. I have this sudden urge to take my food and rub it in her face. Now that I'm thinking of it, I might do that, especially if she keeps repeating her previous words so that she will persuade me to sit with them. For God's sake, it's only lunch! "And I still don't understand—" I groan before I have the chance to register it, cutting her sentence off. I take my fork in my hand and start eating my potatoes, encouraging her to copy my actions.

"Sorry, Delly. I'm just…"

"I feel for you, Katniss. I know how scared you are," she tells me with a look of pity. I raise my eyebrow. _Scared_? That _is_ ridiculous. I'm torn between bursting into laughing, which is something I just _don't_ do, and yelling at her so that she will leave me in peace. "I'm talking about Cato," she says after realizing what she said wasn't adequate.

"What about him?" I ask in an indifferent tone, even though there is no doubt she has me interested now.

"Peeta must have—"

"—he didn't tell me anything." Her eyes grow large.

"He didn't? How…then, why am I—oh-uh…Katniss, the whole classroom knows." At least it's not the whole _school_…

"Why don't _you_ tell me, then?" I prompt.

"Oh. Yeah. You know he's usually with Abigayle's brother, don't you? Cato." I give her a surprised look. "Or not…Jordan is one year older than us." I nod. At least this is something I do know. "Anyway, there was this sort of…bet between them…Cato said he had every girl begging for him back in Two. Jordan didn't believe him and that's when he challenged him. Cato made lots of suggestions but Abigayle's brother said he'd only believe him, if he managed to get the attention of the most difficult girl in the school," she says and stops to take some breaths, giving me the time to absorb everything. I'm about to ask her what this has to do with me, when I realize she's _already_ talking about me. Is that how everyone sees me? The most difficult girl in school? Now, _this_ is just stupid. They're all worthless if that's the only thing that matters to them.

"Okay," I tell her. She gasps.

"Okay? You find that okay? Well, I don't, not to mention the fact that I am _not_ finished yet. This is something Abigayle told me. Peeta was present only when they were betting. Cato supports he will get in your pants by the end of this year. Jordan says he won't," she replies. I scoff. "Then, they started joking about the possibility of you taking it against the wall and—oh, I think this is when Peeta gave Cato the black eye," she informs me, obviously proud of her boyfriend.

"He overreacted. He shouldn't have," is all I have to say for now.

"What are you talking about, Katniss? Of course he didn't overreact! He did the right thing!"

"Yeah, sure he did. He came home bleeding. He didn't do me a favor. Besides, I don't worry at all about what Cato said. I've heard many boys talking about us this way."

"Us?" she voices terrified.

"No, not you. The girls from the Seam. That's what I am in their eyes, anyway. A slut. You know what? I don't care. I got used to it as the years passed. I had Gale by my side and, eventually, got over it." She nods.

"I know what you mean. I believe this is completely unfair-the way they're talking about you I mean. They don't even know you! But do you want some advice?"_Actually, I don't. _I nod, either way. "This time you should take it seriously. Cato is not from Twelve. He's from Two. He says he never loses a bet."

"If he says so," I say sarcastically. What he wants is not going to happen. Not as long as I'm alive.

"I mean it, Katniss. Take it seriously." And with that she's walking away from my table. What was she here for? To sit with me or warn me about Cato?

* * *

><p>I watch Prim as she gets out of the only room I haven't been in-well, there's also the bathroom for Peeta and Tyler but at least I knew what this was-, holding a wet towel in her hands. When she sees me, her eyes light up.<p>

"Katniss!" she throws the towel to me. I have no choice but to catch it. "This is for Peeta. I'll bring another one for the piano," she lets me know and keeps walking. The piano? What piano?

"What? Prim, wait, what do I do with this one?" I ask but she's already on her way downstairs. I exhale out loud and take some timid steps towards the room. What is in there? The door is already half-open, so the only thing I need to do right now is push it to open wide. When I step inside, I immediately spot Peeta sitting on a chair but give myself some time to take in my surroundings-there's a canvas with a covered painting as well as a piano-before turning to pay the required attention to him. I approach him to see that the loose olive shirt he's wearing is full of different colors-probably paint-just like his hands and some specific parts of his face. I look at the cloth I'm holding for one more time to realize it is for him. The uncomfortable expression on his face makes me frown at what Prim wants me to do. Fortunately for me, though, Prim comes in the room with another towel, larger than the one in my hands.

"What are you waiting for? I'm cleaning the piano. You can clean Peeta," she says. Before I have the chance to protest, Peeta does.

"No, Prim, it's okay, I know how to clean myself," he declares.

"You should stay where you are. I promised you I'd take care of you, didn't I?" she tells him with a giggle before adding: "After all, there is no mirror in here."

"But there is a mirror in the bathroom. In both bathrooms," he reminds her thankfully.

"Peeta—"Prim starts but I interrupt her.

"—honestly guys, this is getting pretty tiring. Clean the piano. I will clean Peeta." She gives me a happy nod in agreement. I just reach the other side of the room and lean closer to Peeta coming to his level since he's sitting on the chair. I start with his collarbone unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt. For an unknown reason, I want to feel angrier at him than I already am. I begin to rub violently his exposed skin furrowing my brows in concentration. I'm not hurting him as I originally intended, though. He's accepting me with only some gasps every now and then. After I make sure he shudders due to the water from the towel probably running along his chest from inside the shirt, I reach for his face. I follow the trail of his jawline, his cheeks, his ears, and his forehead, never forgetting to add pressure in my movements, without any particular reason. Only when the cloth comes in contact with his nose, does he groan in pain.

"God, Katniss, why did I even do to you?" he mumbles under his breath.

"The truth is that I never really asked for someone to defend me. It was just a stupid bet," I say. I know Prim won't understand a word, but he will and this is enough for me.

"He wasn't just jok—ow! Watch out! This is still a sensitive area!" he complains. I roll my eyes.

"Katniss, I think you did enough. I'll do the rest for you. You can have the piano," Prim finally gives up. I smirk at my progress and do as I am told until Prim eventually makes one of her least wise choices and flees the room, leaving us alone. I hear Peeta's footsteps becoming louder and louder as he approaches me. I sweep indifferently the piano's surface expecting him to give up, like Prim did earlier, and leave but he doesn't. Instead he just stays there. I don't know whether he's waiting for me to talk or not but it's getting on my nerves.

"What is it, Peeta?" I eventually ask.

"Delly told you, didn't she? She told you what Cato said." He doesn't ask me. He makes a statement.

"Yeah, she did. What's your problem?"

"My problem?"

"Uh-huh."

"I instructed her not to," he admits, making me halt and spin to shot daggers at his direction.

"You sent her to talk to me!" I accuse infuriated. "Didn't you want me to know what he said, anyway? Not that it's a big deal…"

"So what if I did? It is a big deal," he insists.

"Look, Peeta, I don't exactly expect you to understand me. I only expect you to quit watching my back. I can do that myself. I don't need you." He thinks a bit about it, before nodding. He doesn't seem really convinced, though. I just hope he doesn't try anything…

"Wow, brother, you remembered that this place still exists!" Tyler exclaims in awe as he enters the room. Peeta gives him one of his beautiful huge smiles. I shake my head. He _has_ a beautiful smile but the way I'm thinking right now won't help me at all.

"Yeah, Prim and I cleaned it up," Peeta explains but Tyler doesn't look like he's paying attention to him anymore. His gaze is focused on the piano that was full of dust just ten minutes ago. Peeta seems to follow his eyes, too. "Katniss finished that one," he adds.

"Little sister, you don't know how damn much I love you right now," he whispers never taking his eyes off the piano.

"You mean you know how to play?" he nods. "Really? C-can you play some time?" both Mellarks turn to look at me surprised.

"Why? Do you want to sing?" Peeta asks with something new in his voice. Is that…_hope_? I shake my head violently, trying to block the horrific memories.

"No. I don't…I don't sing," I say, letting the familiar painful feeling appear for once more. None of them makes a second effort to ask me. They both know the singing is connected with my dead father.

"I baked a chocolate cake!" Tyler announces in order to light the mood. "I'll be offended if you don't at least try it," he lets us know playfully and leaves us alone for the umpteenth time. It will take a while for me to get used to it…

"I…I'm sorry, Katniss," he says. I don't need to ask him what he is talking about. We both know the meaning of his words. I let out a deep sigh. "He would have asked you to be happy, you know," he tells me in an attempt to comfort me. I grit my teeth together.

"You didn't know him. You can't know what he'd like me to be," I simply reply.

"You're right, I didn't. But I knew some things about him. I _did_ know is that every time he sang even the birds stopped to listen. And that he loved you. If I was dead, I wouldn't want the people I loved to be unhappy. I wouldn't want anyone to suffer because of m—"

"—I don't suffer because of my dad!" I try to yell at him but my voice sounds so weak. I can barely recognize it.

"Of course not. You suffer because of yourself. I only meant that _your_ _dad_ would have thought you're doing it because of him," he explains in a calm voice, takes a last cautious look at me and follows Tyler's direction. I close my eyes. Would he? Would my father want me to be happy? How can I, when happiness is connected with forgetting him in my mind?

* * *

><p>"Mmm…Tyler! This was delicious!" Prim praises him. He grins.<p>

"Why, thank you, Primrose," he replies, his grin turning into a mischievous smile.

"Hey! I thought I told you not to call me that!" she protests.

"Oh…I totally…_forgot_! Will you ever forgive me, your highness?" he asks and stands up to bow in front of her and kiss her hand. She lets out a sound close to a giggle. A sound I never was capable of making.

"We'll see…" she says with a thoughtful expression, making him laugh. Peeta joins soon enough.

"We'll see? That's it? A simple 'we'll see'? Not even an 'okay'? I'm…_devastated_!" he exclaims dramatically, bringing his palm to his chest. I roll my eyes. "What can I do to make you forgive me?"

"Clean the plates! I don't want to see _anything_ on them! Not even a single trace of chocolate!" she replies in a demanding tone, a snobbish expression plastered on her face.

"Yes Ma'am," he bows one more time and lifts his own plate holding it with his two hands. I think he's about to walk to the sink and place it in there, when he brings it close to him, hiding his face from our view and starts licking it noisily. My pupils dilate.

"Oh. My. No freaking way," I hear Peeta say from beside me, equally shocked.

"Ewww! Yuck, Tyler, this is gross!" Prim says, although it is quite apparent she's more than enjoying it.

"Gross?" he licks it one more time. "Well, I find it," he takes his brother's plate "amusing and of course," he adds before finishing his sentence "…absolutely tasty. Don't you want to try?" he suggests.

"No, thanks," she says. "But I forgive you. And I have an award for you."

"An award? For me? What an honor!"

"Come closer, big brother," she orders. He does as she says, waiting patiently for her next move just like me and Peeta. "Closer…" she repeats. "Good. Now…do you find…" she takes a handful of what _I_ haven't eaten and thrusts it in his mouth "…that tasty?" I gasp.

"Prim!" I scold her and turn to see Tyler's reaction. I only hope she hasn't crossed the line… He makes several sounds and licks his lips in delight.

"What an award, Miss Everdeen!" I smack my palm against my forehead at the sound of Peeta's laughter. What happens next is so quick; I don't even have the time to register it. Several pieces of the cake that was earlier on the counter of the kitchen-both small and large-start flying from the one to the other side of the room. In just a matter of seconds I'm the only one sitting on the table, staring from a safe distance.

"Cake waaaaar!" Prim squeaks, making me smile widely and shake my head. I never knew what makes people think that girls mature faster than boys. Now, I do know. Well, let's say I knew…until…I realized my left side was also full of chocolate cake. The three of them must have realized it, too, because everything's gone silent. I bring my hand to my face to clean it up and, when I'm done, I look up to see their terrified figures.

"Now, tell me _who_ did _this_," I demand clenching my fists to my sides. They all start pointing at each other. "I mean _now_. Otherwise, I'll make all of you pay," I threaten.

"Peeta did!" Tyler and Prim yell in unison as if they're ten year old children. I smirk and lick my 'chocolate' fingers.

"Oh, did he?" I ask amused while watching his eyes widen as well. I get up in an as slow motion as I can manage, making my way to the counter. I take the leftover cake in my fist and start walking to Peeta's direction.

"Uh…brother…you'd better not get out of the kitchen…or dad will kill us. I mean it," I hear Tyler say. Well, I have no problem with this. Besides, it is against _him_.

It wasn't a difficult task. Really. I managed to catch him and pin him on the floor in less than five minutes.

I'm now hovering over him-almost sitting on his stomach-with my one leg on his left side, while the other on his right. He's looking at me with a horrified expression. His breathing becomes harder as I press myself on him. I place my palm on his chest, feeling his heart beating like mad and spread some of the cake over his cheek. He reaches to clean his face but I'm quicker. I take his hand and pin it down along with the rest of his body. And just because two can play this game, I lean closer and find his ear.

"Tell me how sorry you are," I whisper. He groans and I press my palm harder on his chest making Tyler laugh from behind me. When the answer still doesn't come, I move my face closer to his and place a chaste kiss on his cheek, devouring the chocolate from the piece of cake I've just spread over it. When my lips come into contact with his complexion, he can't seem to be able to hold the sound of surprise back. He starts squirming uncomfortably, trying to escape my tight grip.

"Fine," he whimpers, encouraging me to find his ear for once more.

"Say it," I order and he moans in between his desperate gasps for air. "Say it, _brother_," I hiss.

"You win! Oh…oh God, Katniss, you win! Please, get off m—" he groans as I prop my weight on his abdomen in order to roll on the floor beside him and stand on my two legs without losing any more time. Tyler and Prim are both in a frenzy, giving me the satisfaction to hear their hysterical laughter.

"I thought so," I tell Peeta and turn around to leave with a triumphant smirk playing on my lips. Living with the Mellarks might not be _that_ bad after all.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So…tell me! Did you like it? Did you hate it? Was it enjoyable? Was it boring? ****It is up to you to decide! **

**I made a plan yesterday (kinda) and realized I'll make more than ten chapters for this story. Is it okay with you? :S**

**Happy New Year, everyone!**


	5. Chapter V: December

**A/N: Hey, hey! Ready for another chapter? I think you are, otherwise you wouldn't be reading now, right? ;)**

**By the way, I'm glad you like Tyler. It will help later in the story.**

**The responses (one response actually) for some of your requests can be found below.:)**

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><p><strong>Title of the fanfic:<strong>House of chaos

**Summary:**[AU/New characters].What if Peeta and Katniss never were tributes in the Games? What if President Snow was dead? What if two people with a past suddenly decided to reunite? Would the members of the new family coexist or would they live in a house of chaos?

**Chapter 5:**(V)

**Genre:** Romance/ Family

**Rated:**T (13+) for violence, language, and possible future references to adult themes.

**Disclaimer:**I only own the plot and the new names of the characters. Everything else belongs to Suzanne Collins.

**Special thanks to (for reviewing):****Cloud-Lover26**, **iam97**, **HungerGamesLover1020** [Don't worry, your first request had been already in my mind right after I posted the first chapter. You'll see it in the next one, though, cuz I need to make something happen first!:D Anyway, your second one is exactly what I'd like Katniss to do but I don't think I can make her beat up Cato just like that! I mean…it's _Cato_ we're talking about! He could make even Peeta (I think it's mentioned in THG that Peeta can wrestle…) want to run away. But he didn't because he has a cruuush! Lol], **Emilie12**, **LivingReminder**, **TaqiWaqi**, **BleachLover31**, **Tayla**,**KMloveya**, **purpleboo** and **yeeeitscarmen**.

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><p>"Wow. This is…" Prim starts. I watch her brows furrow as she fights with her thoughts. We're in the room she and Peeta cleaned just a week ago. This would happen quite often. Peeta would call Prim here to show her some of his older paintings and she'd praise him for the work he did while I'd be sitting on a chair watching my little sister's reaction. Even though I haven't seen any of his paintings or drawings besides the one hanging on his wall, I can't say I'm not curious to take at least one look at what they might look like.<p>

"…weird?" Peeta makes a guess, completing the sentence for her. The smirk he had moments ago has vanished. He looks as if he's anxious for what Prim has to say.

"Yeah, that, too but…it is beautiful. _She_ is beautiful," she says, sneaking a glance at me, before she returns her attention to the painting.

"I would have finished it earlier-in a week as I had promised-, but more details were needed. And I haven't done that before," he explains matter-of-factly. A sly smile creeps along Prim's lips as she looks at me again. This time she doesn't take her eyes from me, though. My own gaze travels to an even more anxious Peeta, before it locks with hers for once more.

"Katniss! You'd like to see this! You're—mghfff!" Peeta clasps his palm to her mouth, preventing her from saying anything else. I raise my one eyebrow suspiciously.

"I'm a muffin?" I ask in disbelief, repeating what I've managed to hear from her. She shakes her head and Peeta lets out a nervous laugh. This is exactly what I need to break my own rules and stand up from the chair, walking towards them. I place my hands on my hips, narrowing my eyes at them. "What are you two not telling me?" I ask in a demanding tone. A weird sound comes from Prim's throat and her amused look makes me realise it could have been something close to a giggle. I drop my hands to my sides, sigh and turn to where the painting is, making my way to it.

When I get close enough, I gasp in surprise. Peeta and Prim would usually talk about sunsets, meadows and beautiful places but nothing related to me. Nothing related to me being pregnant. In a dress. I immediately want to be mad at both of them for enjoying it so much, but my wish for paying more attention to it is stronger.

I take one more step towards it. It is indeed quite _weird_. It is me-well not really, this 'Katniss' Peeta painted is too pretty to be me, leaning with my one side against a dark wall. My eyes are fixed on a blurry window, my white dress barely covering my knees, my usual braid falling to one of my shoulders. I hold my breath as I focus on my left hand, resting on my slightly swollen stomach. It is round enough for others to understand that Peeta has painted a pregnant girl, not one that has gained weight. Instead, it is as if the girl-me-has _lost_ weight. Her skinny body type reminds me of my old self. It reminds me of a time when I'd search for food in a certain bakery's trash cans. It reminds me of the fact that I still owe _him_, no matter what he keeps saying. The sad expression on the other Katniss's face as well as the dark room makes me think of more things than I'd like to. It's like Peeta wants to prove he hasn't forgotten, either.

When I come back to reality, I rush to avert my gaze from the painting. Knowing that bringing an innocent child to this world equals to pain brings an uncomfortable feeling to my chest. The Hunger Games might be over but I still know that I could never-ever-do something so horrible to myself or the child. No matter how many times I've tried to convince myself I learned the hard way, no matter how many times I've promised I will not do the same mistakes my mother did, I can't seem to find the courage to fight my demons. I haven't strayed too far from the sidewalk and I never plan on doing so.

I suddenly sense Prim's presence from beside me. I turn to look at her, received her concerned glance. She, soon enough, makes an effort to fix it.

"When is she due?" the question takes me by surprise. I turn to see a bewildered Peeta who, almost immediately, starts laughing. Prim definitely knows how to light the mood.

"Well, I haven't thought of this one yet…" he replies.

"You're not considering any further details!" I snap irritated instead of asking him whether he's already doing it or not.

"Okay, okay! Chill, Katniss! I only did it for fun!" he says in defence.

"No, you didn't," I accuse. He parts his lips to add something but I don't let him. "You were right about something, though. I would be unhappy," I state honestly.

"You wouldn't! Peeta didn't do it on purpose, right?" Prim asks hopefully, though, it is apparent she can also see how depressing the painting is.

"Yeah, right…" he mumbles. His words seem so forced. I was right for not wanting to look into his eyes before, because when I do, I instantly regret it. The way they bore into mine makes me feel bad. I feel like I've kept secrets from my sister, which is not exactly untrue. I haven't told her how I feel about Peeta or Tyler. I haven't told her how the former makes weird and complicated emotions, I haven't experienced before, appear in my chest. I feel something stir inside me, something I can't quite place. The fact that I owe him my life, the fact that I live in his house when he sometimes behaves like a stranger to me, the fact that he keeps giving me those meaningful long glances I can't understand, when he thinks I'm not looking, as well as every other fact about him upsets me.

"Thank you," Prim tells Peeta. "I'm glad I was given a chance to see it." I sigh.

"Prim? Could you please leave me and your sister alone for a minute?" Peeta suddenly asks, surprising both me and her.

"Of course," she whispers and turns to make her way out of the room. I fold my arms to my chest. What does he want this time? His next words startle me even more.

"I'm sorry," he says. I give him what I think to be a bewildered look.

"For what? There's no need to apologize," I tell him. He opens his mouth to speak. "I mean it," I rush to add. The painting doesn't annoy me as much as it should have.

"I didn't do exactly what Prim asked me to. Lately…I have this strange urge of letting my emotions affect my paintings…" he declares.

"First of all, I don't think it's a good idea to talk to me about your emotions or any kind of feelings. I don't…I don't understand what other people feel. I've been told," I say.

"You've been told?" he asks in disbelief. "By who? I mean…even if you _have_ been told, why don't you make an effort to change that? I know you can." His comment irritates me. He has no right to tell me what to do with my life.

"Don't you think I've made enough efforts and changes already? My home, my family, my friends, my routines…Nothing is the same, Peeta. What else do you want me to do?" I tell him exasperated.

"It's not what _I_ want you to do, Katniss. I'm just trying to help you," he explains in the same calm tone as before.

"How many times do I have to tell you? I. Do **not**. Need you! I can make it on my own! That's what I've been doing for years, you can't just appear out of the blue and tell me—"

"—I know. I know, Katniss."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do," he insists. Does he want to get on my nerves so badly? If he really knew me, he wouldn't keep testing my patience. "I have paid much more attention to you. More than you could think," he adds, though, he seems to regret it once the words are out of his mouth.

"What do you mean?" I ask in bewilderment. I can't pretend to be suspicious when I don't even get what he's talking about. He doesn't reply. "And what did you mean earlier? About your emotions?"

"You were the one unable to handle them. Why do you need to know now?" he says with a slight shrug.

"I…don't," I tell him carefully. I look at the painting to change the subject for one more time.

"I'm not like that." He gives me a questioning look, before I show him his work. "This is not me. The Katniss you've painted might be pathetic and alone and everything but…I wouldn't be the one to get pregnant, wear a dress or look…pretty," I say cautiously after considering that 'beautiful' is not exactly a safe word. Peeta sighs.

"I didn't want it to be like that. Prim is right. Pregnant means neither pathetic nor alone. Quite the opposite actually. The background was my fault. But…everything else…it's how I see you…" he lets his sentence hang. It takes me a minute to work out what he's just said. Does he mean he doesn't consider the girl on the painting pretty or that _I_ am pretty? I make a grimace. I don't really like where my thoughts are going. He and Tyler might be my brothers but I don't feel like giving them permission to call me pretty yet. Before I have the chance to think of anything else to say, Peeta is out of sight.

* * *

><p>"You ready?" Tyler asks me. I don't even know why I agreed to go out with him. I never was familiar with the centre of the town or the people spending their time there. I never was familiar with getting out of my house accompanied by someone else, either. My only exceptions were Gale-so that we could trade with the baker or Sae-, Prim-that was quite rare since we usually met at school and spent out time together in our home, in the Seam-and my mother. Of course my mother went out after we had convinced her to get over her depression but that's another story.<p>

"Yes," I answer. I don't even know where we're going. He suggested taking me with him when he saw Prim and Peeta were pretty caught up with chess.

"We're going now! Do you need anything?" he yells as he opens the door for me to step out. Peeta yells something back. "No, dad will bring some after work! I asked him!" he answers.

"…kay!" I can hear Peeta shout from the living room. I roll my eyes. Tyler would often ask things just before going out. Gale did it quite often, too. I get out of the house before I start recalling my best friend's habits. It will get me nowhere.

"Where are we going?" I wonder curiously.

"The bakery first. Brr, it's pretty cold, isn't it?" he says and I nod in agreement. His eyes move from my face to my hands. "You should wear gloves," he advises.

"Nah, it's not that cold. Besides, sometimes gloves get on my nerves." He smiles, satisfied with our progress. I also have conversations with Peeta but they don't always end up the way we'd like them to. Tyler is pretty outgoing but not as sociable as his brother is. He's quieter than him, too. When he doesn't like something, he doesn't really seem to mind. Even though he's indifferent he doesn't make an effort to show that, either. I can't say I don't like him.

"Do you want to see your mother?" he suggests. My mother has found a decent place to work now. She was given two small rooms so that there will be more flexibility when treating the patients. I'm glad she won't be bringing them home anymore. I couldn't stand seeing or hearing them suffer.

I turn to Tyler and shake my head. I've already seen the place she works in; I don't believe there's a reason for that now.

"I usually saw you at the bakery on Sundays or early in the morning, before school. I get you didn't use to go out on Saturdays," he says.

"Not really. We only got here to trade, anyway. We used to spend our time in the Seam," I inform him.

"You and your boyfriend?" he guesses. I wrinkle my nose at the thought.

"I don't have a boyfriend, Tyler," I confess.

"No? Why is that?" he asks amused. I simply shake my head.

"Well, that's because boyfriends are a waste of time," I reply. He lets out a soft chuckle.

"How would you know that? Did your boyfriend leave you? No wait...it's not Hawthorne, is it? You've said so."

"No, I never was in a relationship. After all, Gale and I were just hunting partners. And best friends," I rush to add in the end.

"I see…I think you should try it some time, though."

"You say that as if it's a piece of cake," I tell him.

"It is. Well, that's only _before_ the problems start to appear. Or maybe…you know what? I've changed my mind. Don't try it. You're perfect just the way you are. No troubles."

"That's exactly my point!" I exclaim with more enthusiasm than intended. He laughs and throws an arm around my shoulders. I try not to feel too uncomfortable, although it's not that unbearable. I'm thankful when, moments later, he decides to drop it. He halts.

"Zoe," he greets the red-haired girl as she stops to acknowledge him.

"Oh, hey Tyler," she says with a huge grin that makes me shudder. I wouldn't have recognized her otherwise; she's Delly Cartwright's older sister. I remember Peeta talking about her. They walk towards each other to meet and I'm forced to follow my step brother.

"What's up?" he asks with a trace of nervousness in his voice.

"Nothing usual. Just shopping for Christmas," she says, making him give her a sweet smile, similar to Peeta's.

"Christmas? We have three weeks until then. Why so hasty?" he wonders.

"I know. My mother wants me to buy some essential things, though. She has already made a list for all the presents we will have to give to our relatives!" she tells him.

"That's insane!" he agrees.

"I know!" she exclaims and I all I can do is turn away to hide the mirth in my eyes. I can barely hold my smirk. Zoe seems to notice me, though. "You must be…Tyler's sister?" she guesses.

"Yeah, she is. My little sister," he says playfully and pulls me closer.

"I'm Zoe. Nice to meet you," she announces and extends her hand. I shake it and introduce myself as Katniss. She turns to Tyler again. "Good thing you've accepted them. I remember how they were treated in school," she adds. Her comment annoys me but, when I see that Tyler has gained back his confidence, I decide not to take it personally.

"We haven't talked in ages! Wouldn't you like to go for a walk some time?" she suggests.

"Sure, why not? Before or after the party?" I look at him confused.

"The party?" I repeat.

"Yeah, you're invited, too. It's on Christmas Eve. We celebrate in the bakery," he explains. I couldn't have seen them. We celebrate in the Seam. "Anyway, what do you say?"

"Definitely before. I've missed my classmates. Tell you what. Do you have any time now?" she asks. He parts his lips but no words come out. He looks at me.

"I'm sorry but Katniss and I were going to—" he stars in a disappointed tone but I interrupt him.

"I was going to the bakery. He only came for company. You can take him. Besides, I see him every day," I tell Zoe in a humorous tone. This must have been the best excuse I've made so far. I never was good at making up or faking things. Tyler gives me a hopeful look.

"Really? Thank you so much…uhh…I mean yeah, see you later sister," he stutters. I grin, bid them farewell and start heading for the bakery. When I'm about to arrive, though, I remember that Tyler forgot to tell me what he really needed from his father. The only thing I know is that _I_ certainly don't need anything.

* * *

><p>"Chess sucks," I announce suddenly. Peeta and Prim both turn to look at me surprised. "What? I'm not lying." Prim smiles.<p>

"You're only saying that because we're better than you," she says.

"No, I'm only saying that because it's the truth. It's boring."

"I always beat her," she tells Peeta. He smiles, too. "Really!" she exclaims, making him let out a brief laugh.

"I believe you!" he says amused. "We could make room for you," he insists showing me the couch they're sitting on with his eyes. I shake my head in a dismissive way for the third time today.

"No, I'm fine here," I say honestly. Seconds later I hear the front door open.

"It must be Tyler," Peeta says. I nod in confirmation. Our parents are both at work.

"It's not just Tyler," I say in amusement.

"What do you mean? Did he bring anyone with him?" he wonders as his brother's footsteps become louder and louder. I grin.

"No. I meant…it's a _whistling_ Tyler," I explain.

"Since when does he whistle? Tyler? Is that you?" Peeta calls. He finally comes in the living room with a goofy smile plastered on his face. He doesn't answer. Instead, he walks to the furniture near the television.

Prim, Peeta and I exchange looks.

"What's with him today?" Peeta wonders clearly baffled.

"So, it went well," I say. It is more of a statement, judging by his behaviour.

"Uh-huh. She said it was nice. She wants to take another walk before the Christmas Eve party. With _me_," he lets me know, obviously proud of himself.

"Is it a date?" Prim asks curiously.

"Well, sort of…"

"Oh…no…it's Zoe, isn't it?" Peeta guesses and pretends to slap himself.

"Yep," he confirms and turns the CD player on. When music starts to play, I hear Peeta burst into laughing.

"Seriously, Tyler? Stereo hearts? After all this time?" Tyler keeps ignoring him, though, and approaches Prim, extending his hand to her.

"Primrose Everdeen. May I have this dance?" he asks in a formal tone. Prim giggles and takes his hand, letting him help her to stand up as well. He leads her to the centre of the living room, pushing the coffee table aside. He doesn't bother to take small steps and practically drags Prim, who starts skipping happily, with him.

He takes her in his large arms and starts spinning her around, while she keeps laughing hysterically. I cover my face with my hands and hide my huge smile into them. A happy Tyler is an even more amusing Tyler. Before I have the chance to wonder what would satisfy Peeta or make him _that_ happy, I'm pulled away from the couch as well.

I let out an embarrassing sound of surprise and drop my hands to my sides to look into the culprit's blue eyes. He gives me a sheepish smile, revealing a perfect line of white teeth and reaches for me when I take two awkward steps back.

"Peeta…I don't…" I start and he raises an eyebrow.

"Don't tell me you don't know how to dance. Everyone can do it. Look at them," he shows me Prim and Tyler with a challenging expression.

"No, it's not that…I'm not in the mood," I admit. I'm not able to recall the last time I got the chance to dance. He gives me a mischievous smile.

"Oh come on! We can fix that," he says and takes both of my hands in his pulling me closer to his body. I wince at his determination as he tries to make me move with him.

At first it is really awkward. I take timid steps around him and I receive looks of disappointment or frowns every now and then. Soon enough, though, he makes me find a rhythm. He keeps spinning me, encouraging me to respond. The urge to laugh with him gets stronger when he starts singing.

_My heart's a stereo_

_It beats for you so listen close_

_Hear my thoughts at every note_

"No! Please, Peeta, don't do it!" Tyler yells as if he's slaughtered, though Peeta's voice is not that horrible. It is quite bearable actually.

_Make me your radio_

Peeta pulls me to him as if hugging me. Prim's next to Tyler, trying to hold her stomach as her face turns tomato red from too much laughing.

_And turn me up when you feel low_

I only start panicking when Peeta's hands move to my ribs. I make a move to stop him but, before I have the time to realize it, my feet are not touching the ground anymore. I force my eyes shut and grab his shoulders before I dig my nails in them for security.

_This melody was meant for you_

_Just sing along to my stereo_

I know he doesn't plan on just dropping me but nobody has dared to lift me up before. Nobody besides my father.

I open my eyes again, when I realize I can finally step on the ground.

_I only pray you'll never leave me behind_

_Because good music can be so hard to find_

_I'll take your hand and hold it closer to mine_

_Thought love was dead, but now you're changing my mind_

He spins me around for one. I can't help the weird look when I catch him staring into my eyes. There's nothing interesting to find in there. Just grey, grey and more grey. I part my lips to voice one of the million questions being in my head right now, but he doesn't let me. He speeds up, finding a new rhythm and prompting me to copy him. Only when he touches-by mistake I think-the spot just below my ribs, do I drop the serious expression.

I make a sound close to a giggle, yet much different than Prim's ones. Peeta smirks before I am able to hope he hasn't noticed.

"Katniss Everdeen? Ticklish? I never thought I'd live to see this one," he tells me in amusement.

"I am not ticklish!" I argue in defense. This only makes matters worse, though. In a matter of seconds we're both on the ground laughing like mad. The fact that I'm forced to let out the sound I have kept in for years seems to entertain him.

"Okay, okay you were right! I'm…" I'm interrupted by another round of hysterical laughter. He chuckles and lets me breathe for a moment.

"What did you say? I didn't hear you," he lies. I punch his arm before I watch him pretend to be hurt.

"Liar," I accuse in a playful tone to receive another squeeze from his fingers to my waist. "What is that? Payback for the cake?"

"Hmm…I didn't even think of it…Thanks for reminding me, Katniss!" he says and holds his hand in front of me, in a threatening way.

"No, no, no!" I yell instinctively.

"Alright, then, you have two choices. One; you admit I've finally managed to defeat you. Two; you say what you wanted to say before. And three; you let me tickle you to death," he explains in a dramatic tone, making me laugh for once more. "Oh, you find that funny now."

"That's three choices."

"Three? Well, I thought you wouldn't mention. So, you're taking the third option."

"That's not even possible," I tell him.

"How about we try and make it possible?" he suggests and raises his eyebrows challengingly. His hand moves to rest on my waist, emitting a surprisingly comfortable heat. However, I'm pretty sure he's going to use it sooner or later, so I rush to answer.

"Option two!" I exclaim.

"And what would that be?" he asks, obviously waiting for me to keep talking.

"I'm ticklish!" I confess louder than normal.

"Wow, Katniss, stating the obvious here. Does that mean I win?"

"Never," I tell him.

"Never? Are you…_sure_ about that?"

"Positive," I reply, expecting to hear more. When I don't, I realize that his hand is still on my waist, even though I can't seem to be able to break eye contact with him. He's doing it _again_. He's searching for something I don't think he will find.

We're both breathing heavily and I almost forget Tyler and Prim are also in the room. _Almost_.

The large pillow hitting Peeta's head looks like the perfect reminder.

"Ow! What was that for?" Peeta demands and moves away from me to focus on Tyler.

"Stop gawking at you sister! I asked you a question!" he says.

"What was the question?" he asks after sighing.

"It's snowing." Peeta slams his palm against his forehead.

"Tyler…that's a statement," he says matter-of-factly.

"You're a fool you know that, right?" Tyler asks.

"Next question, please." I shake my head and watch Peeta as he lifts the pillow over his head and throws it back at Tyler without any warnings. It doesn't find his aim, though. Tyler ducks just when the pillow's about to hit him, resulting on it colliding with a vase.

I hear Peeta suck in his breath, while Tyler's eyes grow large.

"You didn't…" he trails off.

"Looks like I did," Peeta says guiltily.

"Mother would kill you, if she saw you destroyed her favorite vase," Tyler tells him. Suddenly, every single trace of guilt fades from Peeta's face. It is replaced by something I can't really place. His presses his lips together.

"Well, in that case…good think she's not here to see this," he says in a husky voice, making me frown in curiosity. I've never heard them talk about their mother before… What happened to her?

"We'd better pick up the pieces before Mireille comes home for lunch," Tyler suggests, changing the topic. It doesn't seem to bother him as much as it bothers Peeta.

"Yeah right…" Peeta agrees and stands up to help his brother and Prim.

After the incident with the vase, you'd imagine that my thoughts would be about Dorian's former wife. Surprisingly enough, though, they're about something Tyler said earlier. The sentence keeps playing over and over in my mind.

_Stop gawking at your sister._

Why don't the words 'gawking' and 'sister' coexist the way I'd like them to?

* * *

><p><strong>AN:****So…it looks like I have some things to say…**

**First of all, even if the house of the Mellarks is in the bakery, can you please pretend that it's not? For me?:)**

**Secondly, I don't know whether they (in Panem) have CD players or not. By the way, Tyler turned it off when Peeta and Katniss were all over each other. Okay, I know they weren't all over each other, just sayin'…**

**And finally, I need your opinion. Do you think this story should end badly or with a happy ending? I'm perfect with both facts.**

**I will try to update one more time in the week. Until then, why don't you give me some feedback?:)**


	6. Chapter VI: December

**A/N: I'm sorry I didn't manage to update in the previous week, but it's here now, right?**

**Oh and before you start reading…this story is not close to its end! Don't worry. I mean…they haven't even kissed yet! They haven't even had a proper fight yet! ****Be patient.:)**

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><p><strong>Title of the fanfic:<strong>House of chaos

**Summary:**[AU/New characters].What if Peeta and Katniss never were tributes in the Games? What if President Snow was dead? What if two people with a past suddenly decided to reunite? Would the members of the new family coexist or would they live in a house of chaos?

**Chapter 6:**(VI)

**Genre:** Romance/ Family

**Rated:**T (13+) for violence, language, and possible future references to adult themes.

**Disclaimer:**I only own the plot and the new names of the characters. Everything else belongs to Suzanne Collins.

**Special thanks to (for reviewing):Cloud-Lover26**[I'll try to add Zoe more in one of the next chapters], **TaqiWaqi, imdoingok, HungerGamesLover1020**[you will see your request in this one. By the way, your review in chapter five made me laugh! The truth is that I don't want to stop writing, either, but unfortunately everything has to come to an end…:(], **LivingReminder, .Laugh, Tree hugger11, nancirulez, RandomRandoms14, purpleboo, peetamellarkbuns, yeeeitscarmen**and**primrose. forever.**

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><p>"I told you we should have bought gloves for you, too," Prim insists.<p>

"It's okay, Prim. I still have my pockets," I remind her and pat the pockets of my coat. The truth is that what I'm saying doesn't really make sense. It's freezing outside. There are thick layers of snow almost everywhere, resulting in people having difficulties with moving around the District.

"Well, that's not a problem. I have an extra pair of gloves in case you'd like to wear something," Peeta offers. "And…we have also Darryl's gloves, but I don't know where to find them. Tyler does." I shake my head dismissively.

"No, it's okay. I'll survive," I tell him.

"Alright. You two can go out to wait for me. I'll bring the gloves," he says. I fold my arms to my chest but refuse to argue back, since I already know he won't change his mind.

"Oh come on, Katniss. A pair of gloves won't kill you. You'll be thanking me in less than half an hour." I raise my eyebrow, while his lips curl to form an awkward frown. "Or maybe not…" he mumbles before adding: "Which colour do you prefer? Black or dark green?"

"Peeta! Honestly do you always have to be so—" I start but he cuts me off.

"Fine, fine. The black ones," he mutters to himself and turns on his heel to leave. I watch him as he climbs the stairs and stop him when he's about to vanish from my sight.

"Peeta?"

"What is it?"

"I prefer dark green," I admit. My reply makes him smile. He nods and starts walking for once more. "Come on, Prim. Let's go outside," I suggest.

"Shouldn't we wait for Peeta?"

"Yeah but he said we could wait outside," I remind her. I suddenly hear rushed footsteps and turn around to watch Tyler heading towards us.

"Hey Ty," Prim greets him with a grin. He returns the grin.

"Hello, Primrose. Hey, Kat," he says as he steps outside by the time the door has opened. Prim and I follow him.

"Kat? Could you please not call me that?" I plead and start to explain. "It reminds me of Buttercup. That hideous cat was a pain in the—" I'm interrupted by Prim. Her eyes widen as she protests.

"Katniss! Buttercup wasn't hideous! Don't talk like that about him, I still miss him…" she complains. Tyler laughs and I roll my eyes.

"Apparently _he_ doesn't," I tell her.

"How do you know that? My poor baby…if he wanted to come back, he wouldn't find the way now we've moved," she says with a sad expression.

"Oh come on, Prim. We can get a new cat," Tyler makes an attempt to cheer her up. It only results in pissing me off, though.

"No, we can't! There's no way I'm staying here with a _cat_ in the house," I declare, lingering on the word 'cat' long enough for them to understand how disgusted I would probably feel. Prim nods.

"I wouldn't want another cat, anyway." I smile, glad that everything starts making more sense for her now. Even though Prim is sweet and acts her age, I believe that she's more grown up than she seems to be. She knows that having a cat is an extra responsibility.

I take several quick steps to catch up with my sister and Tyler as I realize they've started walking.

"Peeta's coming with you, right?" Tyler wants to know.

"Right," I confirm, though, I don't know if he has any ideas of where to take us.

"Where are you going?" Prim wonders. I wouldn't dare to voice this question. It seems too indiscreet for me to do so.

"The bakery," he answers.

"The bakery? So you're like Peeta. You like baking," I assume.

"You could say that. That's not the main reason why I'm going, though. I could think of one thousand more interesting things to do right now—"

"—like going out with Zoe," Prim teases, making him reflect her mischievous smile.

"Like going out with Zoe," he confirms. "But I want to help dad with the bakery. I can't leave him alone. I don't want him to hire employees now that the finances of the house are better. Peeta agreed to work some days in the week, too," he lets us know.

"I also want to help mom. I think she would let me, if I asked her."

"You should try it, little duck," I encourage her. Prim's eagerness always fascinated me.

"Hey! You left without me!" Peeta complains as he makes a face and sprints towards us. Tyler comes to Prim's level to whisper something in her ear, before she nods in agreement. I cross my arms to my chest and raise an eyebrow when I watch him come even lower. Prim willingly walks around him and wraps her arms around his neck so that he can stand up for once more and carry her with his back pressed against her front. When she makes an effort to wrap her legs around his waist, he catches them and holds them in order not to drop her.

"Tyler, you don't need to carry her. I'm sure she can walk on her own."

"Oh, Katniss. Way to kill the mood," Tyler says in a humorous tone, resulting in me rolling my eyes. Moments later he begins to walk and, eventually, run. I'm about to be thankful when I think they've left me on my own, but Peeta's loud footsteps on the snow remind me he's here, too. Not that I find his company unpleasant.

"They're crazy," he states. I couldn't agree more.

"Hey, Tyler! You're going the wrong way! The bakery is _in_ town, not out of it!" I yell amused. Even though he's almost out of eyesight, I can see him stop running to respond.

"Oh come on! Dad can work on his own for fifteen brief minutes!" he yells back. I sigh and decide that the best thing I can do right now is follow them. Peeta walks beside me.

"Can you run?" he suddenly asks.

"Of course I can run. What do y—oh. Oh no, don't even think about it. We're not running with them," I tell him as I realize what he might be thinking. I can feel him staring at me but I don't turn to acknowledge him.

"And…what if you didn't have to run?" His assumption is enough to make me give him a questioning glance.

"Explain yourself," I demand.

"What I mean to say is that we have only fifteen minutes until Tyler is gone. Why not exploit them…and…you know…"

"I don't," I admit.

"Well, then…don't you want to go with him and Prim?" he says in a hopeful tone. He makes it sound like he is here because of me.

"If you want to be with them, why don't you go? I have no problem. I'm just not in the mood to run right now," I tell him honestly. He sighs in defeat. "What is it?" I ask.

"You're seventeen, Katniss."

"Yeah…well? You're seventeen, too. What does this have to do with Tyler and Prim?"

"Nothing. This has to do with you living your life." I part my lips to object but he cuts me off.

"I agree. I never had to face the difficulties you dealt with. I never was cold or hungry," he says as if reading my mind. "But everything's over now, right? You have the chance to do whatever you wish. In two years, or maybe less, your freedom will be over. You will have to find a job, a place to live—"

"—what should I do?" I snap irritated.

"Perhaps…have some fun? For m—for your sister?" he replies.

"My sister is happy with Tyler," I remind him and make a movement with my head to show him where they went.

"And you can be happy with me," he says in a hasty voice and, before I have the time to work out which the meaning of his words is, he does something completely unexpected. He rushes to curl his arms around my legs and throw me behind his shoulders the way I've seen him do with sacks of flour so many times before. I let out an astounded gasp when I realize that the only thing I can see now is Peeta's legs moving and the snow he walks on.

"Peeta! This is not funny, put me _down_!" I order and give his back a punch.

"In two minutes," he answers, receiving another, more painful punch.

"I mean it. Put. Me. Down. _Now_."

"Sure, Katniss. Whatever you say."

"Damn it, Peeta," I grunt as he speeds up. "Let me walk on my own. Do it now or…" I strangle with my thoughts, trying to find a good enough threat.

"Or what?" he challenges.

"I don't know but it will sure be bloody and violent."

"Nice," he says in a voice full of sarcasm but does nothing to put me down. I groan in frustration. I guess I have to find another way… Not that there is a way. What can I do when the only thing I'm facing is his back? Do I have to mention the fact that my hands are freezing?

And then it hits me.

_I'm facing his back._

My lips curl to form a smirk as my hands find their way downwards. I take handfuls of his waterproof jacket in my hands and start pulling until his blue jumper comes into sight.

"Katniss. What are you d—ahhh!" he exclaims right after he feels my cold hands as they come in contact with the exposed skin of his lower back.

"Put me down," I tell him again. His lack of response prompts me to pull his clothes even higher. This has an almost satisfactory result. _Almost_.

I never really expected to _fall_ with him on the snow. I struggle to move out of his grasp, though he's faster this time. He comes on top of me and holds me still so that he will be able to steady his breathing. I'm grateful the scarf is still wrapped around my neck. However, I can't say the same for my hair. I shiver and slightly lift my unprotected head.

"Peeta. Get…get off…" I manage to get out through my desperate gasps for air. His eyes remain glued to mine as he gives his head a shake. "Peeta," I whine but my voice is too weak for me to keep talking. He parts his lips.

"You have beautiful…" he starts but coughs nervously as he realizes it. "…you have cold hands," he eventually tells me but makes no effort to get up from where he is. What surprises me the most is that I don't object. I always made fun of those who said they had a thing for beautiful eyes. But now I'm looking into Peeta's blue ones…it's like I could lose myself and stare forever. They're so bright, full of joy and—oh. Oh. I don't like where my thoughts are going. And I don't like the path his gaze follows. I almost hold my breath as his eyes travel lower than I'd like them to. I try not to panic and keep my own on them, though, I can feel him staring at _there_. My _lips_.

_Calm down, Katniss. You might be wrong. Just breathe. In, out, in, out, in—_

"Oww! Ouch, ouch, ouch," Peeta rolls and sits beside me, as he holds the one side of his face, complaining like a little child.

"Next time you should be more careful!" Tyler shouts while laughing and I exhale in relief and disap—_relief_. Peeta rubs his gloved hand against his face and gets on his two feet right after he hears Tyler's voice. He opens his pockets, gets two green gloves and throws them at me.

"You will need them," he assures me and runs to make a perfectly round snowball as if nothing happened between us.

_Maybe nothing did. Maybe it was just me._

"Looks like you missed again, Peet! Prim is in my team! It's two against one! You have no chance!"

_Perhaps…have some fun?_

"Oh, don't be so sure about it, Tyler!" I shout, wear Peeta's gloves and get up to stand right beside him. He turns his head the other way, though, not fast enough for me to miss it. It was there. The smile. _My_ smile.

* * *

><p>"I don't understand why they still keep the fence," Peeta confesses as I help Prim crawl under it. She has much less difficulties with doing it than him.<p>

I shrug. "There's no electricity. It doesn't make any difference."

"Well, obviously it does to Peeta," Prim says.

"What was that? Were you implying anything, Primrose?" he asks as he feigns a suspicious expression. He, soon enough, receives an innocent one from Prim.

"Like what?" she wonders. I chuckle and start walking, knowing they will have no chance but to follow me.

I don't really know what made me bring them here. It is mine and Gale's place. This is where I used to come when I felt pressured. This time, though, I have nobody to watch my back, nobody to protect me. I am the one who has to protect Peeta and Prim.

My feet move on their own and I know exactly where they're driving me and why. I somehow feel mad at myself for deciding to share this place with both Peeta and Prim. The former is not a member of my family. I haven't even shown this place to my best friend!

"Hey, Katniss. Wait up," Peeta asks. I nod and wait for them to approach me. "Okay," he whispers and we keep walking again.

"Katniss? Where are we going? We haven't been in this part of the woods before," Prim says.

"I have. Apparently," I reply with an indifferent shrug.

"Why are we here?" she asks again and keeps bombarding me with thousands of questions.

"Prim, you can ask me when we get there," I tell her in an irritated voice. This is a sensitive issue. Sometimes I wish I could shut everyone out, but I regret talking this way to my younger sister almost immediately. "I'm sorry," I rush to add.

"It's okay," she accepts my apology. "Are we clo—"

"Here we…" How could I have been so stupid? "…are…" I finish my sentence. Of course it's frozen. The old Katniss-the one that got in the woods with nobody but her father or Gale-would have thought of that.

I can feel their eyes on me as I stare sadly at the ice which once was a lake.

"Now…what?" Peeta breaks the silence. I lower my head, recalling of a time when I'd be happy. Truly happy. I had a real family back then. My father and I might have been diving in this particular lake to seek for katniss roots to eat but our home never lacked this special feeling of warmth, regardless how cold the weather was. When my father was alive, I didn't care there wasn't always enough food on the table.

"Do you want us to ice skate?" Prim asks in complete bewilderment, making Peeta let out a short and silent laugh.

"That's not a bad idea actually, we could—" I walk and stand right in front of him so that he will stop talking.

"This _is_ a bad idea, Peeta. I don't feel like freezing to death. Because that's what will happen when the ice breaks and I fall inside," I explain.

"Relax, Katniss. I was just joking."

"Well, maybe you need to stop making humorless jokes. I don't like them. _At all,_" I tell him. He raises both hands in surrender.

"Alright. No more humorless jokes," he repeats my words.

"I think it's safe. The ice is thick enough to step on," Prim says in a far more distant voice than I'd prefer her to. I instantly make my way to the lake and stand beside Prim. She got the chance to reach the edge of it, while I've been telling Peeta not to make fun of me.

"I'm not sure, Prim. We can't risk it."

"But, Katniss…"

"I said no. It's dangerous."

"I agree." Peeta's voice is accompanied by his awkward footsteps. He would need to learn lots of things before going to hunt.

"Prim," I warn as I watch the tip of her foot touch the ice. "Come here! I think I told you—"

"—I know but come see for yourself! It's safe!" she insists. I sigh.

"You stay here," I instruct Peeta and go to collect my sister. I wait for her to come but, when she doesn't, I am forced to do as she wishes. I tap carefully the lake with my boot and realize she's right. The ice is really thick. I don't tell her so, though. I don't want to give her courage.

"I know what you're thinking, Katniss. Just admit it. Peeta, why are you there all alone?" she says. His eyes find mine. It's like he's asking for permission.

"Fine. You can come," I tell him, accepting my defeat. He nods and takes several slow but steady steps towards us.

"Peeta! Look!" Prim exclaims. I turn my attention back to her and all I can do is not scream when I see she has both of her feet on the frozen lake now.

"Prim!" I yell and reach to grab her arm, but she quickly spins as if to escape my grip. She takes some steps until she reaches the other side of the lake. They are extremely light and quick but they are still footsteps and it scares me. I wouldn't do what she just did.

"Prim, come back here. That's not a joke. Your sister is worried."

"My sister knows that the ice is—"she's about to repeat her theory, when Peeta interrupts her, speaking in a demanding tone.

"I am worried, too. Come back here." She nods in obedience and attempts on following the same way again.

"No, no, no, Prim, you'd better walk around the lake," I instruct. "Or not. Stay there, I'm coming to get you," I add when I suddenly change my mind. It's too late, though. She is already walking on it timidly-backwards so as to follow my instructions.

"Katniss," Peeta whispers.

"Not now, Peeta," I say in a strained voice.

"Katniss," he insists. "You might want to take a look at the crack…" he says hastily.

"What crack?" I ask puzzled while leaving him behind. My own steps are cautious even if they are on the snow. Suddenly Prim lets out a squeak.

"Where should I go?" she asks in a voice that is proof she has fully understood the seriousness of the situation she is in. I run right after I see what she means. What Peeta meant. _A crack in the ice._

"Don't panic. Stay there, just don't panic," I tell her. I don't know if I'm saying those words out loud to calm her or myself.

"What should I do?" Peeta asks from the other side. I shake my head to clear it.

"Stay where you are! Both of you! Don't move!" I demand and allow myself to take a deep breath. "Okay, Prim. You can move now." She nods right after I give her permission and turns around. This way she will have to face me instead of the cracked ice. I grunt knowingly. "How many times have I told you to listen to me when it comes to things I know better, Prim?"

"How should I have known that the centre of the lake would be more fragile?" she says in despair, though, I can easily recognize the fear in the tone of her voice.

"I didn't know, either, did I? But you just have to—_Peeta_!" I shriek. I let out a strangled cry and rush towards Prim as I watch the ice behind her break. Peeta quickly regrets his actions-he stepped on the ice to reach Prim-and falls on the snow, crawling backwards.

"Katniss, don't let me fall, Katniss, please, don't let me fall," I hear Prim mutter and all I can do is not to let the burning feeling in my eyes affect me.

"I told you…" I say in a broken voice as I take my coat off and drop it on the ground. My jumper, scarf, gloves and boots follow soon enough, leaving me in nothing but my skin-tight brown shirt, my socks and trousers. "I told you to stay where you were…both of you," I whisper, though, I doubt they can hear what I'm saying.

"Katniss, don't," I hear her beg as she realizes I'm stepping on the ice, too. We will both fall and I know it but I can't afford to watch her sink without being able to do anything. Prim doesn't know how to swim.

"Patient, Prim. Just be patient and I'll come to get you," I lie. I close my eyes and take some blind steps, trying to prepare myself for the cold temperature of the water. They flutter open once the sounds of her soft terrified sobs are completely clear. My heart skips a beat when I watch tears start streaking her pale face.

"Prim…can you tell which the right way is for you to support your weight?" I ask. Her puzzled expression urges me to keep talking. "You need to get rid of your shoes. So that…so that I won't have to handle so much weight when…" I shudder. It's like I'm walking barefoot. "…when you fall in th—"she suddenly screeches at my wrong choice of words. She loses her balance and makes the already moving pieces of ice get away from one another. The inevitable has already happened.

Before I have the chance to reconsider, I dive, forward being perfectly aware of my clothed leg grinding forcefully against the sharp ice. I allow myself to realize how cold the water is only after I've taken my sister in my arms. I use my one arm to paddle towards Peeta who has rushed to come to where I stood moments ago. If Prim hadn't worn boots, her shoes would have touched the bottom by now.

"Come on, Katniss," he encourages me and reaches both of his arms. I press my lips together as my nails scratch the icy cold surface of the ice so that I will have something to hold onto and push Prim to Peeta's direction. He makes a grimace as he tries to take her from me and completely out of the water. When he finally makes it, he wastes none of the remaining time. He takes his own jacket off and wraps it around her trembling body, pulling her face to closer to his chest. I can't help the thought of how small she looks when she curls to a fetal position, in his embrace which instantly tightens around her. I can see Peeta's eyes moving from her to me. He's obviously trying to think of a way to get me out, too, though, I make it easier for him by climbing on my own, without much effort.

My teeth keep colliding with one another against my will, while my body shakes violently without me being able to control it. I kneel in front of my clothes and begin to warm myself up as much as I am allowed. Peeta's about to come and help me, dragging this way Prim with him but I stop him.

"No. Keep her warm. Take her home as fast as you can," I tell him.

"Katniss, what about you? I can't leave you here, alone!" he protests. I sit down and struggle with my left boot.

"Peeta, please," I say when I'm finally able to look at him again. I wear his gloves and rub my hands together. "Just take her home. I'll be there in less than a quarter," I assure him. He inhales deeply and gives a curt nod, before getting up and carefully changing Prim's position so that she will be comfortable.

"Don't be too late, okay?" he asks.

"Okay," I confirm.

* * *

><p>I raise my gloved fist, getting ready to knock on the door but it opens wide before I even have the chance to do so. Peeta steps aside, allowing me entrance. I eagerly rush to enter the house getting a first taste of how different the temperature is in here.<p>

"The kitchen," Peeta urges and I can do nothing but follow his instructions.I walk rapidly until I reach the kitchen. Peeta is there to pull a chair and I take that as a sign to sit down. He, thankfully enough, kneels in front of me to take care of my shoes. He quickly unties my shoelaces, before he instructs me to leave my-his-gloves and scarf on the table.

"You should go to have a bath," he tells me.

"Maybe I should," I say whilst sighing.

"No, I mean that Prim's in your bathroom. I have prepared the bathtub in the other one," he explains. I stare at him as if he's an alien. His and Tyler's bathroom? He exhales in frustration and approaches me to push me out of the kitchen. "Go, Katniss. It's ready."

"Fine," I mutter under my breath and make my way upstairs more willingly than intended. I grab new clothes from my dresser and lock myself in the bathroom.

When I'm finally out of them, I skip in the bathtub and moan in delight as the hot water makes goosebumps appear on my skin. When it's time for me to reach for the shampoo I realize that it smells _exactly_ like Peeta. I hadn't really focused on the fact that he had-_has_-a special scent. I decide to ignore it and concentrate on my pleasurable bath instead. This way I'm done in twenty minutes.

My mother never really hears about what happened in the woods. It is a silent agreement among the three of us that nobody should tell her. I even let her braid my hair in order to distract her.

The rest of the day is relatively quiet. Tyler tells me that Zoe wants to see me at least once before the Christmas Eve party. I don't reply, knowing that I will most probably pretend I heard nothing at all in the end. Dorian comes early in the afternoon and brings us cookies claiming that he needs Peeta's help with the frosting. He agrees to work at the bakery tomorrow, after school.

The only unpleasant part of the day is the time for bed. Visiting the lake must have triggered lots of memories but my dreams have nothing to do with my father.

There's this shadow, a cross of Gale and Peeta's voices that keeps haunting me. At first I hear Gale's accusations.

_You haven't called me yet. You've forgotten me. You don't care about me. You've forgotten your own father. You're having fun without him._

And many other horrible things follow. Things I can't remember when I wake up, because Peeta's words confuse me even more.

_You should have fun. This is how I see you. Beautiful. Cold hands. Beautiful. You're beautiful. Dance. Smile. Laugh. You're ticklish. Beautiful._

And then my name, followed by Prim's pained cries.

_Katniss. Katniss. Katniss._

"_Katniss, please, wake up," _I swear I can hear Peeta's hiss in my ear.

And with that I jerk awake. I sit up and clench my fists around my blanket, struggling to catch my breath but the screams don't stop. I force my eyes shut, hoping the horrible pathetic sounds my sister makes will just go away. But they don't. They never seem to leave me.

I feel the mattress sink as arms come to envelop me. I instinctively try to push the intruder away but Peeta's soothing whispers come as a beautiful song when he finds my ear again.

"It's okay, Katniss. You're in your bedroom. You're safe," he says his last words before giving me the chance to speak. I wrap my own weak arms around his torso clutching at his shirt.

"Make it stop, please," I whine in his chest. "Make her stop, Peeta."

"Katniss, I can't. It's…it's your sister. You're awake now," he explains in a voice that guarantees he's truly incapable of stopping my nightmare. Only after I let the meaning of his words sink in, do I realize that my sister is indeed screaming.

This time I don't even hesitate to push Peeta away and get awkwardly out of the bed, stumbling as I make my way to hers. My mother is there trying to calm her down. I can also see Dorian leaning against the doorframe. She must have woken them, too.

"Prim," I mumble. My mother takes that as a hint to back off. She knows she can do nothing to stop Prim's nightmares. Even if _I_ have bad dreams my sister is there to comfort me.

I eventually climb in bed with her. I don't pull her covers to join her, though. I'm scared of making her cold. I reach and tack a strand of her sweaty golden hair behind her ear. Then my hand moves to caress her cheek and repeat the same words Peeta said to me earlier. It seems pretty effective since her trashing slowly begins to slow down.

"Prim, go back to sleep. Go back to sleep, little duck. You need to rest," I tell her. Her eyes carefully make an effort to open but she finally decides to keep them just like before; shut. "What was it, Prim?" I ask, even though I think I already know the answer. For her it's always the same.

"Dad," she confirms with a sob.

"Shh…it's alright. You know dad can't get hurt now. He's alright," I assure her. I suddenly remember my mother and turn to her. "You'd better go. I can handle it from now." She nods and, without a second word, she exits the room. Dorian shoots us a last concerned glance and follows her.

"Peeta," Prim breathes from the moment she notices him. He smiles and comes to kneel in front of the bed.

"Hey, Prim," he whispers.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up," she tells him and brings the back of her palm to her eyes in order to wipe her tears away.

"Don't worry. I was already awake," he lies. Very smoothly I might add. I crawl backwards and leave her bed to kneel beside Peeta.

"Katniss?" she calls. I give her a smile.

"What is it? Do you need anything?" I wonder. I expect her to shake her head, since she never asks me for anything but she surprises me by nodding instead. "Tell me," I prompt her after I see her hesitation.

"Can you…can you please sing to me? To sleep?" she voices her request. I'm caught off guard.

_Sing? _How am I supposed to _sing_? I haven't sung in years. Gale hasn't even heard me. I can't just _sing_.

_Your sister asked you to. Don't you want to please her?_

'Of course I want to please her.' That's the answer.

"Oh…uh…ok-kay…I think I can…" I eventually reply. Peeta has probably sensed my anxiety because he takes my hand in his and gives it a gentle squeeze. His action startles me even more. My eyes travel from Prim to our joined hands and from the unfamiliar sight of them to his face. He rushes to mutter an apology and quickly withdraws his own. I wait for a good couple of seconds, preparing myself, before parting my lips. I haven't heard my voice in ages. The sound of it is so odd in my ears…But I know I have to do it. For Prim's sake.

_Are you, are you coming to the tree_

_Where they strung up a man, they say murdered three_

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree_

"Katniss! Katniss, not this song!" I hear my mother's sudden shriek. This time I'm the one to take Peeta's hand. I close my eyes as he intertwines my fingers with his.

"Don't stop," Prim pleads in a small voice that makes my heart break. I haven't listened to my mother when I should have, so why am I doing it now?

"You know this song is forbidden! You shouldn't—"

"—Mireille, come on. Let's go back to sleep. Let Katniss do what she knows best," Dorian tells my mom and they eventually get out of earshot. This song _was _forbidden but it's not anymore. It just brings too many painful memories even to my mother. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I wasn't the only one that remembered my father.

_You've forgotten your own father._

I shake my head to get rid of Gale's words. After all it was just a dream. Gale would have never said that. I find my voice before I lose myself in my thoughts again.

_Are you, are you coming to the tree_

_Where the dead man called out for his love to flee_

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be…_

And I keep singing until Prim's eyelids are closed again. Her breathing steadies and I know I did it right.

…_if we met up at midnight in the hanging—the hang-ging—the_

My voice breaks in the end. I quickly try to contain my emotions, since I can't afford to upset Prim again.

"Thank you, Katniss," she says.

"You're welcome," I whisper. I must have cut the circulation in Peeta's hand by now.

"I'd better go, too," he tells me. I nod and let him take his hand away.

* * *

><p>I approach the open fireplace. I thought it was dangerous to lit a fire and go to sleep afterwards…The house could easily catch fire. I walk closer to check on it and halt from the moment I face him.<p>

Peeta. He's lying in front of the fireplace with a thin blanket covering him. He seems quite surprised to see me, too.

"Couldn't sleep?" he eventually finds his voice. I shake my head after I get over my own shock and decide it's safe enough to go and sit beside him. I keep my distance, though, claiming I want to be closer to the heat the fire emits.

"You?" I ask all of sudden.

"I was trying," he answers.

"Well, that's a weird place to try and get some decent sleep. Isn't it uncomfortable?" he nods.

"Just a little bit. It's a weird but also nice place to sleep. I get you haven't been down here any other night…" he trails off. "I've been coming here pretty often. Since my mother left us, that is. She freaked out every time we'd stay in the living room after our bedtime. I personally think it's ridiculous to have a bedtime after the age of sixteen."

"Your mother…?" I repeat as if this is the only thing I managed to understand.

"Yes. That's why I started doing it. I've been doing many other things, too, but they're all insignificant. Breaking curfew is also one of them," he explains.

"Peeta…I don't mean to be indiscreet but…what happened to your mother? She isn't in Twelve, right?" His expression hardens.

"No, of course not. I don't know where she is and I don't think I'd like to. Besides, she left us. I don't want to call her my mother. She's not my mother," he says in a voice full of malice. I never thought he was capable of showing this cruel self of his. I don't blame him, either, though.

"You can't choose your parents," I simply reply.

"I beg to differ here. Mireille is like my mother. I don't believe you call your parents the people that give birth to you, but the people who raise you and love you."

"Maybe that's why I wouldn't be a good mother. Because I can't…I can't _love_."

"That's only what _you_ are saying. You don't know that. I told you before. The way you behave towards Prim proves how responsible you will probably be."

"I'm not talking about responsibilities. I'm talking about raising a child. _Really_ raising a child. I'm afraid I will end up like my mother. Useless. Uncaring."

"Yeah…as harsh as that sounds…I can't disagree with you. You could have…"

"Died?" I finish for him. He frowns at the word. "I would have died if you hadn't given me the bread that day."

"You should forget about that. The bread was burned, anyway," he says over an attempt at lightening the mood. I turn my back to him and approach the fire to warm up a bit.

I should agree with him. I'm not in the mood to talk about my past or future. They both seem really distant and dark to me. My mother is about to remarry. My sister will get married and have her own life. What will _I_ do? That's what I don't want to think about.

Suddenly my dream comes back to my mind. _Beautiful._

_Do you think I'm beautiful?_

"...y-yeah…" the timid and unsure answer comes from behind me. "What made you ask?" My face heats up. I must have said it out loud.

A shiver runs down my spine reminding me of how cold the night really is.

"Cold?" Peeta guesses almost immediately. I turn to look at him again. He looks at me with this forget-what-I-said-earlier expression.

"Not really," I reply. He chuckles. "What?" I say annoyed.

"You're such a bad liar, Katniss. Come here," he offers and lifts his blanket, showing me there's room for me, too. I look at him in disbelief. Does he really want me to sleep next to him? Do _I_ want to? I shudder at the thought but quickly blame the cold night for it.

I rush to slip under the blanket, beside him before he changes his mind. Before _I_ change my mind.

"Wait a minute…" he mumbles, brings a pillow from the couch and pushes the blanket to my side to unzip his jacket. He moves closer and holds it open. I don't even dare to look into his eyes as I take his invitation and press my body against his. When I'm close enough, he zips the jacket for once more-with me in it this time-and wraps the blanket around us.

"Are you comfortable?" he asks. _More than that. _At least that's something I can control. I keep it for myself.

"Uh-huh," I confirm. He wraps his arms around me. I tell myself that this is something he couldn't help since his jacket is around me. He has to be comfortable, too, that's why he's doing it.

I realize that I smell like him now. We've used the same shampoo. Only…he smells more like Peeta…

Great, now I'm trying to inhale in his scent, too. I roll my eyes. At least it's calming. It helps me drift off to sleep.

Just before I let the darkness consume me completely I hear him murmur something.

"It could be wrong, but it should have been right," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

The fact that I can't guarantee anything, not even that I heard this simple sentence is exhausting. Maybe my mind is playing tricks with me again. Maybe it was my imagination…

* * *

><p><strong>AN: 0.o The chapter got out much longer than intended! I hope you don't mind because I couldn't bring myself to erase anything.**

**And: I need to say it before I forget it! I decided to keep the depressing for another story, if there will ever be one. Less drama in this one;) Yeah…this means that the ones who wanted a happy ending can now breathe. The poll will stay in my profile for a while, though.**

**And…this story will have twenty chapters. I think it's official. Nineteen normal chapters and something like an epilogue. **


	7. Chapter VII: December

**A/N: I apologize for being late. However, I promise the updates will be a bit more frequent after the 10th of February, when I won't have to study for my certificates.**

**And…I give you chapter seven!**_**Cloud-Lover26**_**, this one is for you. ****You know why;))**

* * *

><p><strong>Title of the fanfic:<strong>House of chaos

**Summary:**[AU/New characters].What if Peeta and Katniss never were tributes in the Games? What if President Snow was dead? What if two people with a past suddenly decided to reunite? Would the members of the new family coexist or would they live in a house of chaos?

**Chapter 7:**(VII)

**Genre:** Romance/ Family

**Rated:**T (13+) for violence, language, and possible future references to adult themes.

**Disclaimer:**I only own the plot and the new names of the characters. Everything else belongs to Suzanne Collins.

**Special thanks to (for reviewing):**_**iam97**_[I'm glad you think they're IC. It helps.:)]**,**_**TaqiWaqi**_**,**_**HungerGamesLover1020**_[haha, the whole beating-up-Cato thing makes me laugh—don't ask why;)]**,**_**imdoingok**_**,**_**yeeeitscarmen**_[I explained in the PM but you'll see on your own…I think…]**,**_**Cloud**_**-**_**Lover26**_[yep. This chapter is yours.]**,**_**purpleboo**_[I will make you wait a little bit more for the kiss then;)],_**KMloveya**_[Cato will be back in the storyline later. Right now, you'll see why I can't add him. It will be too much (but I promise to do it)]**,**_**TheSkyDrivers**_and _**Ginny Lakeboom.**_

* * *

><p>No matter how many times I remind myself that this ridiculous feeling of happiness will go away, it doesn't seem to get old. The excitement in the house today is like a guarantee I will be able to feel whole again, even if my joy has nothing to do with what the Mellarks plan on doing this evening.<p>

I rush to descend the stairs and enter the living room where I found my mother minutes ago. She was the one to tell me she had contacted with Hazelle earlier, this morning. The Hawthornes will be in District Twelve in less than four hours. I will be able to see my best friend again. I have missed not only him, but also his family who was like mine for all these years.

I spot Dorian sitting on the couch, beside my mother as they talk. There are some times when I'm glad that we let her have the chance to re-marry. The genuine smile that's constantly plastered on her face can be anything but an unpleasant sight. Those moments do not last long enough, though. Guilt will always be stronger.

"Katniss. Why don't you have a seat?" Dorian suggests when he notices me standing. I shake my head and try to decline in the kindest way possible.

"No, thank you. I wanted to head for the kitchen, anyway," I tell him and turn on my heel, disappearing from their eyesight in a matter of seconds. And I don't really care that what I've just said makes no sense.

I realize I'm already on my way to the kitchen. I'm about to enter this room as well, when Peeta's voice makes me halt and hesitate.

"Of course I missed you," he says gently. Nobody's in the kitchen right now. He couldn't be telling Tyler or Prim that, anyway. My pupils grow larger than normal when I realize I can't find the courage to go in there anymore.

"Alright, alright, I will come to take you before the party." Laughter follows his sentence. "Nah, I can handle her. Leave it to me." His words come like a stab in the gut. What if he's talking about being able to handle _me_? I immediately push that thought aside. Peeta would never consider me a part of his life. At least not an important enough part to refer me or think of me during a phone call.

"Yeah, but we're leaving after that. It won't be interesting." Does he plan on leaving the Christmas Eve party? And…the Mellarks expect me to stay there?

"Oh come on, Claire. You will be bored," he explains, then sighs.

_Claire. I don't like that name._

Peeta laughs again. "Sure, sweetheart. You've gotta be ready, though…No…no…I won't forget, don't worry," he reassures _Claire_. I can practically hear the smile in his _voice_. It's so _sweet_ that instead of making me repulsed by him it makes me feel disgusted at myself. He tells he has to hang up, before he actually does. But I'm still here. I'm still standing in front of the kitchen without being able to move.

The sound of his footsteps stops only when he notices me standing in front of him, staring. I'm hoping for some words to come out of his mouth. Something-_anything_-to prevent me from keep staring like a complete idiot. But he doesn't make a move. His expression is mirroring my own. When I see he's searching for something (something I don't know as usual), I gulp and part my lips wishing for the words to come out of _my_ mouth. Instead, I only _stare_.

"Katniss," he finally addresses me, his voice unsteady. "Is anything wrong?" he asks in a concerned tone. I give him a questioning glance. Why would he think there's something wrong with _me_?

My next words startle both him and myself.

"I thought you had no girlfriend," I tell him. There's no curiosity in my voice. Right now I can only detect accusation as well as an unexplained urgency. He raises his eyebrows puzzled.

"I…don't…?" he whispers. "I don't have a girlfriend," he adds in more confidence the second time. For a reason, though, his answer makes me even more annoyed.

"Never mind," I grumble and spin around to leave before I do anything stupid like show him what I'm capable of doing while being angry. However, his hand comes to close tightly around my wrist, forcing me to turn and face him. His grip is steady to keep me where I am, yet not painful at all.

"Where you going to tell me anything?" he wonders and locks his gaze with mine. I still feel anger boiling inside me, though, I'm perfectly aware of the fact that there's absolutely no need for that. Maybe my behaviour irritates me more than Peeta's. Then, I have to remind myself that Peeta did nothing wrong. His personal life is none of my business.

"No," I reply after I've gathered enough courage to do so. We stay looking at each other for only a couple of seconds before I feel his grip loosen on my wrist. He sighs.

"Sorry," he mumbles, averting quickly his eyes from mine. I shake my head nervously.

"You don't need to apologize," I mutter. This time he lets me go and I quietly make my way to the stairs again. But this is also the time when I can't help going back to where he stands. He's pretty surprised to see me there again, especially when I make it obvious I came back for _him_.

"Is she coming tonight? To the bakery?" I ask curiously.

"What? Who are you talking about? My 'girlfriend'?" his voice is full of sarcasm as he pronounces the last word.

"Ye—well, I don't know. I mean…" I sigh. I reply without looking in his eyes. I'm afraid that _now_ there is something for him to find in my own, even if _I_ don't know what this means. "Claire," I whisper the name I've decided to dislike.

The terrible silence which follows makes me feel really uncomfortable. I look up to see his face-if not meet his eyes-and watch him stare at me as if I'm some sort of alien; a muttation. Moments later, though, he bursts into laughing.

His reaction is completely opposed to what I was expecting him to do. I am truly taken aback.

"Why are you laughing?" I ask in a weak voice, feeling the heat return to my face. Now, though, it's for a whole different reason. I'm not angry but _embarrassed_.

_Why is he laughing? What have I done?_

Tyler can be considered my savior for the umpteenth time. He approaches us and stops in front of Peeta to shoot him a weird-almost concerned-glance.

"Having fun?" he asks as Peeta tries to calm himself. When neither of us answers, he moves to the next question. "What's with him?" he says, obviously talking to me. I shrug. The shame I have been feeling is almost gone now.

"She thought…" Peeta shakes his head and chuckles. "Claire…my _girlfriend_…" he replies while taking deep breaths. Tyler seems to fight with his thoughts for a little bit when the meaning of Peeta's words becomes comprehensible to him. I wish I could say the same.

"_Our_ Claire?" Tyler infers but Peeta is already walking away, laughing by himself. Then, he turns to face me with a faint smirk on his lips.

"What was that about?" he wants to know. I give him a confused look and press my lips together.

"I wish I knew…" I trail off. "Where's Prim?" I ask to change the topic. He shrugs.

"Probably in your room," he answers. I give him a curt nod and make a move to leave for once more, when he speaks.

"You do realize that Claire is our six-year-old cousin, right?" he tells me. I try my hardest not to let my eyes grow large, gulp, bite my bottom lip or any other movement that will assure him my nervousness.

_Alright. Now I do have every reason to feel stupid._

* * *

><p>"Yeah, I'll come later," I tell her nonchalantly. Prim frowns and closes my book so that I will look at her.<p>

"Katniss. Please? Haven't you heard the doorbell?" she asks.

"Yes, Prim, I have. That's the problem. I don't like showing up when people come to visit. Even if it is just for ten minutes. I can't stand them looking at me like _that_," I explain.

"What if you like them? Why don't you come to take a look?" she suggests hopefully. I sigh.

"Alright." Her face lights up. "Later," I add afterwards. She folds her arm to her chest, a gesture Prim avoids making.

"Okay. You can stay here. However, I _will_ go back to our visitors. They won't stay for long, anyway. They are tired from their trip. They came from District Two minutes ago. _And_they wanted to see us before they went to their _old_ home, in the _Seam_. They—" She doesn't need to say anything else because I already know who she is talking about. I'm out of the room before she has the chance to say anything else.

I run downstairs, ignoring the fact that I'm barefoot and the floor is icy cold. I almost lose my balance and fall off the stairs.

"Gale!" I call by the moment I've seen him standing with his family in the hallway and rush to go into his arms as he opens them wide and welcomes me eagerly. He squeezes me in his embrace and, then, places his hands on either side of my waist to steady me. I'm finally forced to take my arms from around his neck.

"Hello to you, too, Catnip," he tells me with his all too familiar smirk. I suddenly remember that there are more people in here. I welcome also Vick, Posy and Hazelle with a hug. Rory complains a bit but lets me ruffle his dark hair anyway.

"Would you like to sit for a while? Have something to drink or eat?" Dorian offers, gesturing towards the living room. Hazelle declines his request kindly enough, claiming that they need to go home soon. Finally, though, they end up joining my mother and Dorian in the place where they were sitting before. Prim drags the other three upstairs, mocking them for being so 'bashful'. I understand that feeling. A year ago, if someone told me I would be living in a house like that, I would laugh at them.

I take Gale's hand and lead him to the kitchen, since I know there's no way he's going anywhere near the rest of the rooms. Peeta's there, too.

"Oh…uh…sorry…do you want me to go?" he asks. He receives a weird look from Gale and a smile from me.

"No, no, stay here," I tell him. Gale looks from him to me and visa versa with an even more puzzled expression.

"I thought it was your home…?" Gale speaks.

"It was—_it is_. But I thought that, maybe, if you wanted some privacy…I could give it to you," Peeta explains.

"Privacy? We will have plenty of that in the woods, right, Catnip?" he asks and winks at me. I feel my face heat up as I catch Peeta staring with that _look_. The _look _that means _something_ and makes me uncomfortable. I gulp and decide to change the topic.

"Oh…I almost forgot. Peeta, this is Gale. Gale, this is Peeta," I say and take their arms, forcing them to shake hands.

"Nice to meet you," Peeta says, finding his old self for once more. Gale gives him a knowing nod. "Sit," he offers afterwards. Soon enough, we're all sitting around the kitchen table. Gale is the one to break the awkward silence among us.

"So…how is my favorite Catnip doing? Is she causing trouble? You should know, she can be really crazy and stubborn sometimes."

"Yeah, don't worry. I'm familiar with the fact," Peeta replies with a smile. I let out a sound of disbelief.

"Hey!" I protest. They both give me amused looks. Gale takes my braid in his fingers and twirls it. I push him away.

"I was just kidding, Everdeen. Chill," he says.

"Yeah, whatever…" I tell him in a humorous tone while rolling my eyes. A pregnant pause follows. I clench my fists and keep my gaze on them. If I look up, I will undoubtedly meet a pair of bright blue eyes and I can't bring myself to do it right now. Instead, I only answer some brief questions Gale asks (I know he can't be open enough in front of Peeta) and wait until it is time for the Hawthornes to leave for the Seam.

"Katniss? Will you come tonight?" Gale wonders. Tonight is the party in the bakery. I bite my lip, considering my response.

"I…uhm…" I start but Peeta is there to ease the whole situation.

"Actually, Katniss is coming to celebrate the Christmas Eve with us. Would you like to accompany us?" he offers. I can see the uneasiness all over Gale's face, so I try to get him out of it.

"Look, Gale, I know you're tired. I could probably come to visit tomorrow. Are you okay with this?" he nods in approval.

"We could go to hunt. I haven't done that in a long time," he admits with a thoughtful expression.

"Me neither."

"So…see you at seven in our meeting place?" he suggests.

"_Seven_?" I exclaim incredulously. He gives me a sly smile.

"Old habits die hard, Catnip. Besides, it's Christmas tomorrow. You can't be away from your fam—your house for too long," he corrects himself just in time, making me save my glare for later.

I sigh. "Yeah, right," I breathe and walk with him towards the hallway so that I will bid them farewell. At least temporarily.

* * *

><p>I can't quite recall when it started happening but Peeta and I are alone in the room where he paints <em>again<em>. For some unknown reason I feel better when I'm here, with him, than when I'm in my room, on my own. I can easily indulge in the silence between us. I often find myself being really thankful he knows exactly when to talk or when not to. He somehow knows that there are some times I need to remain silent. There are some times when I don't appreciate other people's help, no matter who they are. I need to fight my demons on my own-from the most unimportant, like how I will handle Cato's annoying comments, to the most significant, like whether I have to think of my father while being happy. However, there are also those other times, when Peeta helps me. Every look or smile he gives me reassures me that I deserve to be satisfied with my life, too even if I don't always believe it.

Today is different. He's not painting. Instead, he's sitting on a chair, drawing something on a sketch block. I haven't seen that one before and I'm more than certain that I have no right to. This doesn't exactly stop me from being curious, though. Thus, I break the unspoken rule there's between us-the one that requires no talking-and speak.

"What are you drawing?" It takes him some seconds to realize I'm actually talking to him. He looks up surprised, taking in the sight of me growing-probably-less and less patient as the time starts ticking away.

"Nothing special," he replies when he recovers. "I'll show it to you if you want to. But not now. It's not ready yet," he adds as if reading my mind. I almost immediately nod in agreement and shift on the long piano stool so that I will face the musical instrument. I still haven't heard Tyler play. I frown at the thought.

I suddenly place both of my palms on the keyboard which makes an awfully annoying sound. It pierces my ears. I let out a heavy sigh before running my index finger over the keys. At least this one rings better.

Peeta chuckles from behind me. I turn around to shoot him an accusing glance. "What?" I say.

He only shakes his head. "Nothing. You're just doing…a wonderful job, that's all," he replies, never taking his eyes off his creation. There's no sarcasm in his voice but it's obvious he's making fun of me.

"Well, why don't you come and try it if you think you're better?" He lifts his head ever so slightly to meet my eyes.

"Is that a challenge?" he says, raising an eyebrow afterwards. I don't answer. I just sit here, chewing on my bottom lip. He, soon enough, receives a weird look, since he places his block on the chair and approaches me. When he eyes me, I understand he wants me to make room for him so that he will be able to sit beside me. He moves one hand to the keyboard and surprises me by using his four last fingers to create a simple but also nice melody. I avert my gaze from his fingers to his face. His lips curl to form a smirk as if knowing I'm looking at him open-mouthed. I make a grimace. Moments later, he also brings his second hand to the piano. His fingers dance for a little bit more, when he suddenly stops.

"That's not fair. You knew what you were doing," I say. He gives me a goofy grin in return.

"That's the easiest of the three songs Tyler showed me. I don't remember what goes next, though. It was a long time ago," he tells me. I smile. I have also tried to teach Prim things I used to do in the woods with Gale. She could never really stand killing an animal or see it killed by me. She always wanted to heal it afterwards.

My breath literally catches in my throat as I feel Peeta's arm circle my back and arms from behind. He comes closer and covers the back of my palms with his own larger hands.

"It's not that hard," he explains. I wonder if he can hear my heartbeat from where he is. I don't reply since I don't exactly trust myself with words right now. "Not like this," he adds and takes the tips of my fingers in his own to show me how I should have them while playing. I don't pay attention. I focus on his soft breathing, trying to steady my own, too.

This is ridiculous. I can't feel like that. I shouldn't feel like that. The fact that my step brother (I have to remind myself quite often that he will be my family in the end, whether I like it or not) is the only one who manages to give me this awful feeling. The one I haven't experienced before. It scares me.

This time Tyler is not here to save me. Peeta does it himself, though. There is this discomfort I rarely spot in his voice. He must have realized that he can't keep going. He slowly pulls away and takes a look at the clock hanging on the wall. I mentally slap myself for missing the warmth of his body.

"It is a bit late. I could show you some other time. Maybe we have to start getting ready," he tells me. I swallow and rush to nod. "We are going to take Claire first, alright? She always came to the party because her parents came, too, but this time dad gave us the bakery she won't be able to stay for long."

"Okay…" I answer and stand from where I'm sitting.

"Katniss?" Peeta calls.

"Yes?"

"You don't need to do as they say, you know." He notices my troubled expression, so he makes himself clearer. "You don't need to wear a dress to feel comfortable. The bakery is also yours; you have the right to do what you like." He's apparently talking about my mother and sister. They were the ones who insisted I wear a dress. I want to thank him for considering his place mine, for not judging me, for understanding me. Instead, I simply blink.

He exits the room before I have the chance to feel uneasy.

* * *

><p>The door opens to reveal a blonde woman of medium height. Her blue eyes light up almost immediately, from the moment she sees Peeta standing beside me. She seems a bit surprised, though.<p>

"Peeta! Don't tell me she's called you again!" she exclaims. Peeta smiles as a reply. "Oh…I'm really sorry…I have told her not to…" she says in an apologetic tone.

"It's alright. I haven't seen her in a long time, anyway. I don't think a brief visit will hurt." She nods.

"Come in," she offers and steps aside. Peeta walks inside. She takes a look at me. "Come in! You're a friend of Peeta, am I right?" she asks. Peeta gets out again and extends his hand.

"She's Katniss," he explains, while waiting for me to take it and follow him in the house. I do.

"Oh. I didn't know. I'm Eirene," she introduces herself. I nod.

"Claire! Claire, come here!" she calls. "Wyatt is not home right now," she tells Peeta. When Eirene goes to bring her daughter, Peeta leans closer and explains me it's Dorian's younger sister, while Wyatt is her husband.

"Peeta! Peeta!" a little girl-I assume that's Claire-runs towards us and wraps her small arms around Peeta's waist. He laughs and kneels to come to her level.

"Hey there, Miss," he greets her and ruffles her dirty blonde hair that falls to her shoulders.

"You came!" she says in excitement and receives another hug from him.

"How could I not? I had promised, remember? I always keep my promises," he replies. She keeps her head down and nods hesitantly. "Nice. Now, say hello to Katniss," he tells her and takes my hand dragging me closer, while supporting Claire's back with his other palm. I let out an unexpected gasp and try my hardest to give her a sweet smile.

"Hello, Katniss," she says with a grin. "She looks beautiful," she states out loud and looks at Peeta for confirmation. I want to take this step backwards so badly right now. Even though I don't like compliments, I stay where I am.

"She does," he tells her without looking at me or asking for my permission. Claire's expression is now thoughtful.

"Is she your girlfriend?" she suddenly asks. Peeta instantly lets go of my hand and I can finally take that step towards the other direction. He avoids my gaze and laughs nervously.

"No, Claire, Katniss is my…she's…" he trails off.

_Just say it…_

"She's your new cousin," he eventually saves it. I breathe a sigh of relief. Safe enough. Better than 'my sister'.

"My new cousin?" she wonders and glances at me to examine me. "I like your hair," she admits and I try not to blush due to a _child_.

"Uh…thanks," I say. Peeta keeps asking her questions that have to do with how she spends her time or how school goes. At some point he has to interrupt his conversation with her to assure Eirene we don't need anything to drink or eat. We still follow her in their living room, though.

The more he talks with Claire, the more attached I feel to him. It is undeniably creepy how well he goes with her. He is beyond the line of perfection. The warm feeling, this stirring inside me, follows its way from my stomach to my heart and knocks the breath out of me for once more. It is so horrifying, yet so addicting.

The final blow is that affectionate kiss he places on the flawless skin of her small nose. The adoration in his eyes as well as the appreciation in hers make it so much difficult for me to block the image. The one coming and flooding my mind with forbidden thoughts and emotions.

A girl with ashy blonde hair like _his_, bright blue eyes like _his_, smelling of cinnamon and fresh bread like _him_, painting, drawing, getting straight "A"s, making cookies and decorating cakes. The idea of this stops being appropriate when more details are added. Because the girl has her hair in a braid. She's stubborn, she hunts and refuses to wear dresses. Like _me_.

The room starts spinning. The atmosphere is suffocating. My head is suddenly killing me. I feel sick. I _am_ sick. I cannot allow random images like that invade my thoughts, not even my most private ones.

Peeta's eyes move to my face and I hold onto the couch for dear life. _What the hell is wrong with me?_

"Katniss? Are you feeling alright? You look…_pale_," Peeta says in a concerned voice. I can't even bring myself to nod. I need to get out of here. He returns his attention to his cousin. "Claire, we're really glad for seeing you. We need to go now, though, alright?" he says and stands up.

"So soon?" she complains.

"I'll see you some other time. I hope you understand that—"

"—I will find only big kids who are not in my age," she says in a bored voice and rolls her eyes, making him smile again.

"I love you," he tells her.

"Don't we all love me?" she replies with a mischievous smirk. I can't stand it anymore. I have to get out of here. I stand up, almost jumping from the couch.

"Katniss?"

"I need to go. I need air," I demand. There's no point is saying anything else. Peeta leads me outside with Claire following from behind us. I feel like _crying_. And I do _not_ cry.

"I have to get somewhere first. You should go to the bakery. I will…I'll see you there," I tell Peeta and he stares at me without being able to say a word. I exploit the fact and start running. I'm not heading for my new home. I can't go back in there. I know where I have to go. I know who will listen to me, who will understand me. I don't need to have a clear mind to find my way there. My feet move on their own account. The lead me to the Seam.

I stop moving as I hear the sound I haven't heard for so long; wood chopping. It is coming from the backyard. There are no second thoughts as I walk towards it, my steps more timid this time. It is comforting and-in some way-nice. It reminds me of my older routines and habits.

He's there. I knew he would be. I am too selfish to feel sorry for the convenience of the situation. The fact that Gale's family is in the house makes it even easier for me to tell him.

_Tell him what? How I feel? Why I feel like that? __**I **__don't even know the answer to those questions!_

I watch as his arms swing back with the axe and then swing down to chop the wood. He splits it into two uneven pieces and takes each of them to repeat his actions. He keeps going this way for some more minutes that seem like an eternity to me.

And then the inevitable happens; he notices me standing here, several feet in front of him. He lets out a long breath and drops the axe awkwardly to the ground. He doesn't even call my name. He examines me first. He takes in the sight of me, measuring my reaction. Seconds later he gives me one of his knowing looks; the one meaning that something is definitely wrong.

He follows my gaze which travels from him to the wood.

"It is for the fireplace. It's quite cold, isn't it?" he breaks the silence as he slowly, but carefully, approaches me. I know him long enough to understand that he's not telling me this to excuse what he's been doing. He only wants to break the ice, help me let my guards down. He's trying to make me feel comfortable fpr once more. But then again…he has been away for half a year. Half a year is a long time. There are some pieces he won't be able to put together, if I don't open up. That's the _real_ problem. I don't _want_ to open up.

_Why am I even here? How will something that has to do with Peeta help me by coming to see Gale?_

"Catnip?" he calls in an unsure voice as if talking to a hurt animal. I wonder what I look like. I wonder what makes him afraid of asking the question. This doesn't mean it doesn't come moments later, though. "Katniss, what happened?" he wants to know. I shake my head as a reply. I don't expect him to find the meaning of something _I_ haven't even interpreted.

Before I have the chance to register it, his arms wrap cautiously around me. I return the hug right after I recover.

"What is it? Shouldn't you be—" I take handfuls of his shirt in my fists to stop him from saying the word 'bakery'. However, I realize that my response is even more thoughtless. He gets the message faster than I'd like him to.

"Did something happen with the Mellarks? Katniss? Katniss, I'm talking to you," he demands. I bury my face in his chest. I can and _can't_ hear his next questions at the same time. I hear his voice but don't pay attention to his words.

_I'm scared._

I'm scared that nobody besides Peeta will be able to give me this ridiculous feeling, this mixture of confusion, longing and happiness. I want Gale to give me this feeling. I want it so badly that I completely ignore my mind screaming at me to back off. Instead, I disobey each order it gives me. It tells me not to pull away but I do. It tells me not to stand on the tips of my toes but I do. And, finally, it tells me that leaning closer and pressing my lips against his is absurd. But I neglect its wishes again. And that makes me even more scared.

Gale is too shocked to react. He's too astounded to kiss me back or push me away. He only lets me have my moment before he comes to his senses again. He gently cups my shoulders and makes me move backwards, holding me in place.

"I have a girlfriend." The statement makes me look down in shame. I have just kissed my best friend.

_What's wrong with me?_

"Hey. Hey, Katniss, what's wrong?" He sounds worried. He's already aware I never did this because I feel _that_ way about him. His friendly and concerned tone makes it obvious. I clasp my hands to my mouth.

"What happened? Did the baker do something? Or his sons?" he guesses. I force my eyes shut. He _knows_ I came here for comfort. He _knows_ there was another meaning behind my actions. I only wish I knew more things about myself, too.

I drop my hands to my sides and open my eyes. They don't meet his, though. I have already turned to the other direction. I have already starting running again.

He doesn't run after me. He doesn't make any efforts to catch up with me. He doesn't ask me to explain. Then, realization hits me. He's not the same Gale anymore. I'm not the same Katniss anymore. The missing pieces are much more than I could ever imagine. This is where our understanding stops. He doesn't _know _anymore.

* * *

><p>Am I really doing this? Am I really waiting for her to answer? I never thought of considering her request. I'm not only <em>considering<em> right now, I'm also _accepting_.

"Hello?" the voice full of eagerness finally comes from the other end of the line.

"Uh…hello…" I reply.

"Who is it?" The willingness fades as confusion and curiosity replace it.

"It's…Katniss."

"Katniss! Really? It's me; Zoe!" she exclaims. I don't blame her for being so surprised. My decision startled even _me_. "Did you need anything in particular?" she adds.

_How difficult can wearing a dress be?_

This is the single thought crossing my mind just before the moment I part my lips to tell her. Because I _do_ need something in particular.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And now you can tell me how the chapter was:)**


	8. Chapter VIII: December

**A/N: Welcome back! Well, I don't have anything in particular to say so…perhaps I should give you chapter eight? I only hope not to disappoint, since your expectations are pretty high and everything…**

**The answer(s) to request(s) can be found below, as usual.**

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><p><strong>Title of the fanfic:<strong>House of chaos

**Summary:**[AU/New characters].What if Peeta and Katniss never were tributes in the Games? What if President Snow was dead? What if two people with a past suddenly decided to reunite? Would the members of the new family coexist or would they live in a house of chaos?

**Chapter 8:**(VIII)

**Genre:** Romance/ Family

**Rated:**T (13+) for violence, language, and possible future references to adult themes.

**Disclaimer:**I only own the plot and the new names of the characters. Everything else belongs to Suzanne Collins.

**Special thanks to (for reviewing):**_**WhatLiesWithin23, Ginny Lakeboom**_[more Peeta/Katniss coming for you and everyone;)]_**, iam97, TaqiWaqi, HungerGamesLover1020, Cloud-Lover26, purpleboo**_[jealous Katniss, huh? At least I will know someone is not against my plans (that would be you :D)…]_**, KMloveya, yeeeitscarmen, PeetaLuver1,ms-archer17, penandquill, SWPeetaxKatnissAvatarTLA, person**_and_**LgWater27.**_

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><p>She carefully places her index finger under my chin and proceeds to lift my face higher. My eyes meet involuntarily with her soft blue ones. She must have sensed my discomfort because she sighs and, eventually, gives me a reassuring nod.<p>

"Zoe…" I murmur. She can see I'm already changing my mind. Her eyes are wide open as she talks, trying to convince me that all those previous compliments of hers were real.

"Oh come on, Katniss…you look really good. You won't start again, will you? They're going to love this other side of you," she says.

"This other side of me is not _me_, though. I know…" I let out a long breath, packing up all the courage I'm left in order to keep talking. "…I know that I was the one who asked you to come here, but I don't believe I can do this anymore," I let her know.

"Nonsense. You'll do more than great," she replies with confidence. She takes my neat braid carefully in her one hand and shakes her head in a way I can't place. "You didn't even let me take care of your hair. You should trust me, you know."

"It's not that I don't trust _you_. I don't trust anyone in general," I explain with a frown. She nods in what I think to be comprehension.

"Alright. We should be going, though. You don't want us to be late, right?" she asks. I didn't know we were to go to the bakery early. Neither Peeta, nor Tyler told me anything about it. I sigh.

"No, I don't. However, I would like to…you know…go to the bathroom for one last time…?" I tell her. I hate how much my sentence sounds like a question. I hate being unsure.

"No problem. Just hurry." The urgency in her voice makes me exit my room hastily as well as take quicker steps than originally intended.

I have reached the bathroom in a matter of seconds. I have to try my hardest in order to suppress my need to close my eyes from the moment I take in my reflection in the mirror. I suddenly feel so ridiculous. Though, I can't help going closer to take a better look. My hands instantly reach to touch my face. They rest on the spot right below my eyes. Zoe has used a black pencil which reminded me of Peeta's colorful ones. He would often use them to draw something on the papers of his block, not on somebody's skin. I shiver as I notice how much brighter my grey eyes have gotten. I look…_scary_.

Moments later, my gaze falls on my lips. I watch myself wince. Those are worse than my eyes. They are too pink…too _glistening_. I don't even hesitate to take some toilet paper and wipe whatever this thing is away. The paper is also pink now. I rush to throw it in the toilet and pull the flush.

_Am I really going like this?_

A knock on the door makes it almost impossible for me to think of the answer.

"Katniss? You have been there for quite a while…are you okay?" I hear Zoe's voice from outside. I stretch my white dress-the one Prim wanted to see me in-and turn the knob to come face to face with her for once more.

"Yes. We can go now." She knits her brows right after she notices my pale lips. She parts her own to tell me something, but she eventually regrets it. She presses them together and nods.

"Good," she mutters and turns on her heel, prompting me to follow her. I have no other choice but to do so.

* * *

><p>He takes my hand in his, holds my arm above my head and spins me. Once, twice, three times. He's about to go for another round, when he notices my expression and places both of his hands on my shoulders to steady me.<p>

"Oh, I guess that was a bad idea. Are you feeling dizzy?" he asks as soon as he realizes his mistake. I take a step backwards in order to find my balance and allow my hands to drop to my sides. Zoe's stern look from beside him reminds me that I am not supposed to pull my dress lower than it already is. Though, the fact that it stops mid-thigh makes me feel more than uncomfortable.

My fingers curl inwards, forming balled fists. This will do for now. Tyler is unaware of the looks 'his girl', as he likes to call her, is giving me. He's only able to respond when she addresses him.

"Please, tell her she looks okay! She won't hear me!" she complains in a desperate says, making me flinch. I can't believe what a hypocrite I am right now. People who protest all the time has always gotten on my nerves. I'm doing anything different…

A huge smile spreads across Tyler's face.

"What? Don't look at me like that!" I snap annoyed and he chuckles. He shakes his head.

"You're amazing, Katniss. You can't really think otherwise." His compliment makes my face heat up. I don't know whether it is from embarrassment or anger. Another smile of his assures me that I have no reason to be angry, even if I want to. I bring my palm higher to hide my face in it.

"You're not telling me that," I mutter under my breath, though, he still hears me.

"Yes, I am. And I mean it," he says in a humorous tone. I somehow feel like it's not the time for his jokes. Even if it is for everyone else.

"See? You're gorgeous," Zoe repeats and takes my hands from my face. I have a feeling she only does it because she doesn't want her work on me to be spoiled.

"As radiant as the sun," Tyler confirms with a grin. One of my balled fists connects with his shoulder. He almost immediately rubs the spot where I hit him, pretending to be hurt. "What an affectionate way to show me how much you love me… How do you manage to do that every time? Will you teach me?" he teases. I exhale slowly, attempting to control myself. A second punch is not a good idea.

"Katniss?" I hear my sister's voice call in disbelief from behind me. I smile before turning around to greet her. "Katniss! You wore the dress!" she exclaims in an amazed voice. I raise both eyebrows as if questioning her reaction.

"Why is this so surprising?" I tell her in a tone which, thankfully, doesn't betray me. She seems to be fighting with her thoughts for quite a while, when she finally realizes I am only joking.

"And your eyes! What did you d—," she watches as my eyes widen and quickly fixes what she was about to say. "No, I didn't mean it in a bad way. I mean they're beautiful. I just haven't seen you like this before," she explains. I open my mouth to tell her that she won't see me like this ever again, but Tyler chooses to interfere.

"My, my, looks like my little sister has a weakness." The way he says it makes it understandable that he's talking about me. I fold my arms to my chest.

"Oh, really? And what would that be?" I challenge.

"My other sister. Apparently." At first I'm surprised he gets to the point immediately. Later, though, I sigh in defeat. I have come to accept and, therefore, admit the fact. After all, it _is_ quite obvious.

"Hey, Zoe? Where did you get the…" he trails off, not knowing how to finish his sentence. I give him a weird look, even though he's not looking at me, but get the message as soon as he points to his face.

"The makeup? I got it from the shop down the street? Why? Wanna try it?" she asks with a slight smirk. He lets out a brief laugh.

"No, I was just wondering. I haven't seen anyone else wearing makeup in Twelve. By the way, you're talking about the new shop, aren't you?" I turn my attention to Prim again, since I am aware I don't need to participate in their conversation anymore. For an unknown reason, instead of just saying _it_ out loud, I lean closer and whisper it in her ear.

"Where's Peeta?" I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth, but I know I can't take them back now. Besides, I'm also interested my sister's answer.

"Over there," she replies and looks up for confirmation, showing me with a movement of her head. "With his friends," she adds. I can feel her examine me closely and hesitate to look at where she said I should. This can wait. I can see him in the house. Maybe it is better if I don't talk to him.

Tyler's loud laugh brings me back to reality. "I'm surrounded by my sisters," he announces. I watch as a blonde woman in her early twenties-nothing unexpected-gives him a shy smile.

"Hello, girls," Darryl greets us. I hadn't though I would see him here, too. When Dorian let his sons host the party in the bakery on their own, I had only kept in mind Tyler and Peeta. I never really counted neither the eldest brother nor the friends of the Mellarks.

"Hey," Prim and I say in unison and, then, look at each other with a knowing grin. He introduces us to his fiancé and starts asking about how everything in the house is going now that he's not there. It turns out that the blonde woman-Ingrid-is a silent type. All she does is listen and make small movements with her head so as to let us know she understands what we are talking about.

Only when Darryl informs us that we can go and eat one of those treats the bakery makes daily, do I allow myself to steal a glance at Peeta. My chest tightens when I spot him laughing with his friends. The three girls in the group laugh along, most likely because of a joke Trevor said, since the satisfaction is his eyes is more than obvious. Trevor is also in our class-he's sitting right beside Peeta during most of the lessons. I never was the one to seek for company. I don't know why I'm feeling this way now.

I nearly jump when Tyler's palm comes to rest on my arm. He waits for me to swallow the rest of what I'm eating and speaks.

"Sorry for scaring you. I just…talked to you and you seemed to be…travelling?" he tells me unsure of the situation I'm in.

"Yeah, it's okay. Did you want anything in particular?"

"I had started a joke…but this won't be the same now you know about it. I can't surprise you."

"You sure did surprise me some seconds ago. Go ahead," I encourage.

"Uh-huh. I was telling you about you eating only from the stuff Peeta makes. Have you considered eating anything from what _I_ d—no wait. This doesn't sound right. I told you I can't repeat my jokes," he says, letting a long breath escape his lips. I instinctively drop the cheese bun back in the plate.

"That was just a coincidence!" I rush to tell him, panic racing through me. I lift my gaze to find his own eyes staring back at me in bewilderment.

"You're not…" he stops mid-sentence, obviously waiting for me to say something. "You're not serious, are you? I mean…this is ridiculous…You know I was only teasing you, right?" I stare back at him. Overreacting is something I avoid doing. Right now, Tyler is the last person I want to confront because of a simple exception.

"Katniss, I won't be offended, if you don't eat—,"

"—I know!" I cut him off this time, my voice a bit louder than intended. "I couldn't have known it was Peeta that made those buns, anyway."

"Of course you wouldn't—hold on…are you saying that there's something wrong with eating what Peeta has made?" I make a face. "Jeez, sorry, Katniss, but you have confused me. Completely."

"Katniss!" Zoe interrupts and comes to stand beside me. My eyes fall on her bare shoulders and the soft waves of her red hair falling unevenly on them. The jacket she was wearing is on her hands. "Katniss," she repeats. "Aren't you warm enough now?" she asks.

"Warm enough? I wasn't cold before," I confess, making her face light up.

"All the better, sweetheart. Come on. Take that thing off," she instructs as she pulls one of my own jacket's sleeves lower. I hurriedly pull it back on.

"It's winter," I remind her. Tyler chuckles and he has every reason to do so. This might be the most stupid excuse I have come up with.

"I thought we had agreed you would do that once we were in the bakery…"

"What? We never agreed to this! I told you I would probably be cold and that I would want to have a jacket with me. But we never said I was to take it off."

"Is it that bad? I don't think they'll mind," Tyler tells me and makes a movement with his hands to show me the whole bakery.

"I don't know if they mind, Tyler, but I do." Then, I turn to Zoe. "Please, don't make me do this. I already feel too naked." I motion to my thighs to explain.

"That's what the dresses are for, sis."

"To make you feel naked?" He rolls his eyes, obviously refusing to answer my pointless question. I'm quite grateful when Zoe doesn't mention me taking off the jacket again. Though, all of my relief instantly vanishes when Tyler and Darryl decide to call their brother so we can 'start'. I don't exactly know what start means. At least not until Darryl disappears in the room where they keep the sacks of flour-as Dorian has told me-and re-emerges with a huge black bottle.

My eyes travel from the bottle to Peeta. He is completely out of earshot, though, I can clearly see his lips form two words. _Oh, no._

"Come on, Peeta! It's time to be a man, don't you think?" the older Mellark shouts to the other side of the room. Soon enough, everyone has approached. I stare at Tyler in confusion. He isn't looking at me, but the _smirk_ is still there.

"Oh, Darryl… You're not doing it _again_, are you? Have you asked dad?" Peeta wants to know. He winces as he hears his brothers' loud laughter in response.

"Have you even realized that you're gonna turn eighteen in less than three months? And you're still waiting for dad's permission? I mean…_really_?" Tyler tells him.

"Yes, really. Because _you_ are going to be the ones who won't be able to walk to get home. And _you_ are going to be the ones with a headache in the morning," he reasons. More laughter follows, I approach Zoe to ask her about what is in the bottle.

"Liquor," she answers. I give her an incredulous look. _Liquor?_"Yeah, they've been doing it for three or four years. When Tyler was seventeen or sixteen—I don't really remember," she adds as she takes in my facial expression.

"How many glasses?" Darryl asks. "Let me guess. The usual participants so…" he starts counting the people in the room. "Seven?"

"Make them eight," Zoe says from beside me with a smile. Darryl smiles back, while Tyler watches her in surprise.

"Alright. Peeta, bring us nine glasses."

"I thought you said seven? Eight actually, if you count Zoe's."

"You'd better _do_ count Zoe's," she says in a threatening tone. I gasp when Delly comes to stand where her sister was moments ago. I don't know whether it is from surprise I see her close to me or annoyance. I can almost predict what's coming next. _Talk_, _talk_ and more _talk_.

"Hey, Katniss," she greets. I try my best not to scoff.

"Hi," I reply. My voice sounds strained. I obviously have no idea of how to make it sound sweeter than normal.

"How are you?" she asks again.

"I'm okay," I tell her, turning to give her a reassuring look. The questions don't stop, though.

"Are you alright?" she says. I raise an eyebrow. What is that supposed to mean?

"Yes, Delly, I've just told you I'm okay." For some reason more words come out. "I'm having a great time so far," I tell her. I'm not startled when she doesn't know how to reply to this.

"Good…" she decides to answer after a while. "That's good. Of course you'd have a great time. Your brothers are amazing." I turn to look at Peeta walking towards Darryl and Ingrid. He somehow manages to hold five of the nine glasses in his hands. When he gets rid of them, he promises to be back with the rest. "And cute," Delly adds, reminding me of her presence.

"You think they're _cute_?" I repeat. The word tastes so weird coming out her mouth, let alone from mine. She motions towards Peeta.

"Yeah…I'm not talking only about the appearance. I'm also talking about the gestures. They're always so sweet…I mean I can't believe my sister is still oblivious," she says with a small laugh. "Tyler is crazy for her. Literally. And she can't even _see_ this. Lingering on the mistakes she made in the past is one of her biggest flaws."

"Delly, no offense, but I don't think your sister would appreciate what y-_we're_ doing. At least I wouldn't like Prim to…" I trail off as I watch her cheeks redden in realization of what she has started to talk about.

"Right, sorry," she mumbles.

"Apologizing to Zoe would be more logical." I don't even wait for her to speak again. Instead, I move forward, trying to get a better view of what the Mellarks are going to do. When I hear her voice again, I clench my jaw to the point of breaking my teeth.

"Six, five, four…" I watch Peeta roll his eyes as he distances himself from his brothers. "…three, two, _one_!" Tyler yells along with Darryl. They all raise their glasses to their mouths and start taking sips. Zoe is the one to stop first. Trevor follows and frowns as he looks at Peeta who laughs at him.

"I lasted longer last year," he says irritated, doubling this way Peeta's amusement. "Mellark," he warns and follows him. Peeta turns to look at him only when we're almost two feet apart.

"What is it?"

"Cut it off already," Trevor says. Peeta shakes his head and finally closes the distance between us.

"Delly. I thought you'd be outside," he says without even looking at me. I'm about to turn around and leave them alone, when he notices I'm there, too. "Hey, Katniss."

"Yes. Hey."

"Is anything wrong?" he asks in concern. I press my lips together. "By the way…nice dress. It suits you," he compliments. Before I have the chance to answer, Trevor interferes. He makes a face and tries to mimic Peeta's voice.

"Yeah, _little Kat._ Is anything _wrong_? _Oh_, are you feeling _alright_? You're wearing such a _wonderful_ dress! _Orange_ is my color but that's okay because—" Peeta elbows Trevor's stomach and I'm pretty thankful he has finally shut it. None of us talks until I decide to break the silence. I instantly regret it.

"You never told me that orange was your color."

"What?" Every time he asks for eye contact I'm afraid to give it to him. I'm afraid of what he will see in there. It is not as it used to be. He doesn't turn away now. Or when I finally surrender, I'm afraid to look away. It is as if the whole world will start crashing down.

"Not any kind of orange. Soft like the _sunset_," Trevor whispers in a seductive voice. "You should hear him talk after a daydream. He sounds so…stupid."

"I find it more than alright. The way he thinks and acts…it's sweet," Delly defends him.

"So sweet, yeah," he says sarcastically.

"What exactly are you trying to achieve, Trevor?" Peeta asks in a newfound urgency in his voice. Trevor brings his index finger to his chin and pretends to be deep in thought.

"Let me think…oh yeah! Someone needs to teach you a lesson."

"Teach me a lesson? Is there a reason for that?" Trevor grabs Peeta from the shoulders and starts shaking him.

"Dude. _Seriously_. Quit being such a pansy!" he exclaims throwing his hands in the air.

"I'm not a—wait. _What_ did you call me?" Peeta demands in disbelief. I sigh and turn to look at Delly who has this unusual look of impatience in her eyes. She huffs in exasperation and looks at me for some help. Thankfully enough, though, I don't need to do anything because Trevor manages to drag his friend outside, with Abigayle.

"You know what I mean now?" her voice makes me shoot her a puzzled look. "About the Mellarks I mean. I have known them for years. They have this...gift…of knowing what to say each and every time. However, nobody seems to appreciate the fact. You've heard Trevor," she explains.

"I guess…" The silence between us would be awkward, if there wasn't so much noise in here.

"Katniss? I don't want to be indiscreet…but…when was the last time someone complimented you like Peeta did earlier?" she asks hesitantly.

"Oh…uh…no…you…I…I don't want to think about it now."

"Why not? Was it unpleasant for you? Did he…you know…hurt you in any way?"

"Hurt me? You mean my feelings?" I am prompted to go on when I see her nod. "No, I just don't like to think about it because it was the reaping day. It was the first time I wore a dress. Gale told me…" I exhale and prepare myself to speak again, but she is the one to talk first.

"Did you two have anything in particular? Apart from friendship I mean. You looked as close as Peeta and I." I'm suddenly insulted by her comparison. I decide it's too warm for me to keep my jacket on. I take it off and hand it to her.

"I think I'm going to get a drink," I let her know, even though I don't really know why I feel like informing her. Though, I don't pay much attention, since my harsh tone is satisfactory enough.

I reach Darryl but move on to Tyler, anyway. I'm more comfortable around him than I am around any of his brothers.

"Hey, Tyler?" I call. I take a look at his empty hand. "Where's your glass?" I ask. He takes his own eyes off Zoe to keep them on me.

"My glass? Oh, right my glass. As much as I hate to admit it Peeta's right. I don't need a headache in the morning."

"One glass is enough," Zoe adds with a warm smile identical to Delly's.

"One and a half actually," Tyler corrects playfully. "What's my baby brother doing? Drinking his milk?"

"Tyler!" Zoe scolds him, but laughs regardless. He immediately mumbles a soft apology.

"Can I have a glass, too?" I ask. He eyes me suspiciously.

"A glass? You mean a glass of liquor?" He doesn't wait for me to answer. "What's up, little sister? The jacket's off," he says while patting one of my bare shoulders. "Now _this_. What's up?"

"Nothing's up. I mean…nothing in particular. Nothing besides the fact that I'd like to have a glass," I insist. He slowly nods and goes to the counter to bring me what I asked after he fills it with the white liquid.

"Here you are." He hands it to me. "Have you tried it before?"

"No. Why? Is it necessary?"

"Not really. You just have to be careful not to take big sips at first. Oh, and before I forget it…not that you'd ever go to the Victor's Village…but if you ever spot Abernathy downtown…don't mention anything about us stealing his favourite liquor…"

"You _steal_ it?"

"No, no, that sounded wrong. We buy it. He's just…supposed to take one more bottle than he does every December. I don't even know whether he'd make a big deal of it, though, it's safer not to say anything." I nod in understanding and raise the glass to my mouth. I take one more cautious look at Zoe. The fact that she doesn't look as freaked out as I thought her to be encourages me to take the first sip.

"I see you got your drink now." Her voice takes me by surprise and makes me choke, even though I should have been prepared for her return. "Are you alright?" Delly asks in concern. My will to shoot her a death glare is strong enough, but my eyes are too blurry for this. I gulp, trying to swallow the burning feeling in my throat.

"Oh, no, no, Katniss! No tears!" Zoe scolds and approaches me to wipe my forced tears away. I am too thankful to push her away. Instead, I just accept her assistance until she takes her place beside Tyler again. He chuckles.

"I told you to take a _small_ sip first." This time I can't help the angry stare. I nod and repeat my previous action, being aware of Delly standing terrifically close to me. The burning feeling comes again. I decide that the taste of it is a bit bitter, yet bearable for me.

"It's…good. Yeah, it's good," I repeat to Tyler who's looking at me as if I'm one of those Capitol freaks.

"You sure, sis? You'd better…" his eyes widen when I take another sip. "You'd better take it easy. Just an advice. You have no idea how horrible I felt the morning after my first time," he declares.

"I'm positive she doesn't need to hear about this now. Hey, how about we dance?" Zoe suggests. It's obvious she's talking to Tyler.

"Dance? Zoe, I'm a horrible dancer." I have to smile at the memory of him jumping and spinning with my little sister. He _is_ a horrible dancer.

"There's no way you're a worse dancer than a singer," she replies with a smile. If I hadn't been studying his face, I wouldn't have mentioned the hurt expression. He quickly recovers and hides it, though. He nods and follows her as she drags his arm before he has the chance to see how helpless _I_ am.

"So…" I carefully loosen my grip on the glass in fear of crashing it. "We were talking about you and Gale. Was there something special between you two?" I gulp some of the liquor in my glass. I'm aware she doesn't want to know if Gale and I had what we _did have_ all those years. Friendship. She wants to know if there was something more. I don't understand why she needs me to tell her so badly.

I don't know _why_ I do it, but as soon as the glass is away from my lips, I spill the beans.

"Ah, nothing in particular. Just a kiss," I let her know, pretending to be nonchalant.

"Nothing in particular? It must have been like my first kiss then. It was by mistake actually. Peeta and I got the best mark after hours of work for an assignment we had to write together. I wanted to give him a peck on the cheek but he turned around and I accidentally kissed the corner of his lips." She giggles. "It was really awkward if you ask me. It took us two whole days to be back to normal. I had never seen him blush before," she says matter-of-factly. Is she doing it on purpose? Not that I mind…she kissed Peeta. On the lips. So what? Nothing's wrong with this. Why is she telling me this? I'm not bothered. At all.

"Uh…Katniss? Are you alright?" she asks and leans to take a better look at me.

"Yeah…" The roughness in my voice startles me. I clear my throat to repeat it. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"I gave your jacket to your sister. That's in case you were wondering." I nod.

"I need a drink," I say to no-one in particular. Her nose wrinkles in what I think to be disapproval.

"You sound like Haymitch," she lets me know without being able to hide her disgust.

"What's wrong with poor Abernathy? What do you all have against him today? I mean…hell, you haven't even heard him say that! How can you say I sound like him when—" I'm interrupted by her filling my glass.

"Here you are," she tells me with a sigh. I don't even bother to thank her. I know that I don't need a drink. I need to leave this place. I need to go home but Tyler's nowhere in sight. I can't go without letting somebody know. Prim's not a choice. She would try to persuade me to change my mind. I feel like Peeta's not a choice, either.

"You should participate in their competition the next year," she advises.

"I won't be in District Twelve the next year," I inform her a little too harshly. I honestly don't feel sorry for being cruel to her. _She_ is the one who has been bothering me for as long as I have been here.

"No? Have you thought of where to go yet?" Peeta and Trevor save her from me when they run close to us, laughing.

"Basta—" Trevor starts but Peeta steps on his left shoe.

"Not now," he grunts. I turn to see that Delly has an exasperated look on her face. She doesn't even hesitate to take Peeta's hand and drag him away. When they're out of earshot, she raises both of her hands as if she's in despair. Peeta watches her stunned and I can imagine she's yelling at him. His eyes widen. In a matter of seconds he's yelling, too. I feel a pat on my upper back and turn to look at Trevor.

"I'm going to see what's wrong with those two. Will you be okay?" I'm tempted to scowl. He hasn't shown any kind of interest for me before. Why would he now?

"I'll be fine."

"See you, then," he replies and leaves before I have the time to register it and tell him something in return. When my eyes fall back on Peeta and Delly, I'm surprised to see they've stopped shouting at each other. Peeta's hands are on her shoulders. He's obviously trying to calm her down. As much as she needs it, especially after her weird outburst, I just wish I had him comforting me instead. There's nothing wrong with your…your brother comforting you, right? Tyler comforts me. I think Darryl would, too, if there was an emergency.

Just before Trevor reaches them, Peeta smiles and pulls Delly closer for a hug. I wish staring at him like an idiot would just get old but I never seem to be able to quit. It feels like being pulled by a really strong force I can't even name. It feels awful. I am only able to look away when his grip around her tightens. It is as if he doesn't want to let go again and for an unknown to me reason-just like the one that made me kiss my best friend-it hurts. It hurts more than I'd like to admit.

I suddenly remind myself that I don't have to admit _anything_ to _anyone_. Hell, I don't even need to admit anything to _myself_.

After my third glass is over, I have finally packed up all the courage I need to ask where the restroom is. I follow the direction Ingrid's finger points at and wonder whether she has the ability to speak for the umpteenth time.

I honestly tried not to find myself completely unprepared, but my appearance freaks me out for once more. This is not me. This is not Katniss Everdeen. I feel so disgusted with my current choice that I don't even hold back when an idea crosses my mind.

I turn on the faucet and watch the water as it runs down the sink. A last look at my reflection is what it takes for me to spread my open palms forward. The water is cold and satisfactory when it comes into contact with my warm skin. Maybe Zoe's advice for my jacket was wise after all. I bring my drenched hands to my closed eyes and start rubbing with violent motions. It offers me relief, though, not enough for the rage inside of me to be extinguished. I really wish my throat wouldn't hurt so much. I wish I could scream. I wish I could disappear in my woods. I wish I could turn the time back. I would never let my mother marry the baker. I would know better than taking her with me in the place where Dorian works. Not until I could leave Twelve. I remember Gale suggesting we run away. Perhaps it would be different for me this time. I would probably agree.

How is this possible? How can I loathe myself so much for no reason? Knowing how much my head will ache, I don't even bother to make efforts concerning_thinking_. The thoughts just…_come_ and irritate me. The worst part is that, when I feel like putting the blame on someone else instead of myself, Peeta's name is the first on the list. How can I believe he's responsible for everything bad happening to me when, in reality, he's responsible for _nothing_ at all? What the hell is wrong with me?

My eyes flutter open just to see that I look even scarier now. I have completely destroyed Zoe's work. I frantically rush to splash more water in my face. Getting rid of the creature which is nothing like Katniss feels good. Too good to stop. In less than a minute I have managed to wipe all of the black stuff away from my eyes. There's only a faint line of black right below them now.

I take my half full glass from the sink and push the door open. I grit my teeth when the sound of it slamming shut again pierces my ears.

I've soon opened the main door of the bakery, too. I eye the empty tables and chairs which have been gotten out of the building due to the lack of space. I fall awkwardly on one of the chairs and place the glass on the table. The _fourth_ glass. I wonder if four glasses are enough to get drunk. I doubt it. I can still think clearly, right? I can still look around me without having everything spinning.

My face drops to be hidden in my hands. The same question is repeated over and over in my head.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

After a couple of minutes I'm aware of how cold the air really is. I shiver violently but do nothing to get warm. At least not until _his_ footsteps make me withdraw my palms from my face. I don't need his pity. I don't need anyone's pity.

He halts as soon as he spots me. "Katniss?" he calls in a soft voice. I hide my balled fists under my knees as I watch him approach me.

"Is anything wrong?" he asks. I shake my head and keep my gaze on the table. I want him to go away. I want him to get back in. "What are you doing out here? Everyone's inside now," he lets me know.

"What are _you_ doing out here, then?" I ask suspiciously. He shrugs.

"Nothing," he whispers but drags a chair and comes to sit beside me, anyway.

"Nothing," I repeat in disbelief.

"You know you can talk to me, right? You can tell me if y—"

"—Delly says you're cute," I interrupt him.

"What?" he wonders incredulously.

"Yes. You heard correct. She also says your gestures are always sweet," I grunt, still refusing to look at him.

"Why are you telling me this?" he wants to know. The tone of his voice betrays his curiosity.

"Because she's right. Nobody appreciates this…how did she call it? Gift? I'm in the list of those people. I don't appreciate you. Never did, never will. So, instead of staying here, _freezing_ and keeping _me_ company, you should go inside." I'm repulsed by how pathetic I sound right now.

"I don't want to be inside. If you believe I should go, then, you should come with me, too." His words linger on the breeze and ring in my ears like a beautiful melody. It makes me feel less alone than I am right now. I finally turn around to meet his eyes. They're bright even in the darkness. I can practically imagine the pools of crystal blue staring back at me. It is easier for me to look away when I can't make out his eyes precisely. I take a sip from the liquor. It doesn't taste so bitter anymore. I have gotten used to its taste.

"Go back to her, Peeta." I wish I could just remain silent. He wouldn't have pressed it.

"Delly can do without us for now, don't you think?" The eager tone of his voice gives my stomach an uncomfortable sensation. It doesn't stop me from being the 'old Katniss'. Not the one Zoe has tried to create.

"Stop saying 'us'. There's no _us_," I snarl.

"Oh! Katniss, I…I didn't mean anything by it," he rushes to explain. I force the liquor down my throat for one more time. It still burns.

"Yeah, right, whatever. Leave me alone," I demand. I expect him to stand up and just go but he doesn't. This time he doesn't respect my wishes.

"I can't stand seeing you like this," he tells me sadly.

"Like what? What's wrong with me?"

"I don't know. You should be the one to tell me that. I'm always willing to help you and you know it. You do, don't you?" he asks for confirmation. I don't give it to him. I hear him move and soon enough feel the weight of his jacket on my arms. I take it off and thrust it violently in his lap again.

"Well, too bad I don't want your help." Several seconds pass before he speaks again.

"Katniss? What have I done? Why do you talk to me like that?" he asks. It makes me shudder again. Why does he have to point it out? I feel bad for making him sound hurt.

"I've already told you. I haven't learned to appreciate you. Delly probably needs a hug again. Let's not make her wait."

"What's—what's with Delly today? You refer to her as if—"

"—today? Just today? It is always Delly. Yesterday, today, tomorrow, the day after tomorrow and the day after that and they day after that and—"

"—Katniss! I'm serious." My laugh follows his last sentence. A dark laugh I haven't heard before, a sound that scares even me.

"You're serious…" I repeat and unclench one of my fists to scratch the wooden chair.

"Can I ask you a question?" He doesn't wait for me to answer. He keeps talking. "How much of it have you drunk?"

"It? The liquor? It's good."

"How much, Katniss?"

"You say my name way too often. You have to quit doing this. You're ridiculous."

"Do you even know what you're saying? No, no, what am I even doing? Questioning _you_? You're drunk," he states. I glare at him.

"I'm not drunk!" I defend myself. "See? I can still think. And talk. And sit. And probably walk."

"For your information I sent Delly to approach you in any way possible. You never let me help you. You never listen to me. You didn't even take Cato seriously! But you crossed even _her_ limits. You're impossible, that's what I have to say!" I laugh again.

"This is how I am," I confirm.

"No, this is not how you are. This is how you become when _he_ comes back from Two and gets you drunk." I have this all too familiar urge of slapping him. It appears every ten seconds.

"It's not Gale's fault! And I'm not drunk! _I_ kissed him!"

"I know! I know but does it matter? He still confused you! He still—"

"—how do you know I kissed him? How do you know we kissed?" I demand. Before he has the chance to reply I do for him. "You followed me! You followed me after I left your cousin's home!" I yell in an accusatory tone.

"What? Is that what you think? I would never do that! I would never invade your privacy by following you!" he defends himself. "I just…somebody told me, okay? I don't want to tell you who but somebody told me. You were in the backyard."

"No…" I groan and rub my closed eyelids. "Prim," I mumble and, when he doesn't say anything, I know I'm right.

"It doesn't matter!" he yells. "It doesn't matter," he whispers again tiredly. I make a sound close to a sob. I have screwed up. How have I allowed my thoughts to be such a horrible mess? How have I allowed my life to be so complicated?

I rub my arms up and down to warm up. I almost regret not taking his jacket. However, my pride would never allow such thing.

"We're going home," he announces determined. I shake my head and sink in the chair.

"You should leave me," I tell him without knowing what the meaning of my words is.

"Never. We're going _now_," he orders and gets up offering his hand to me. I don't take it. I look away from it. _No._

I am taken off guard when he leans closer and drags both of my arms, forcing me to stand. Soon enough it turns out that I can't really _walk_. I collapse on him and push him, trying to find my balance again. He has other plans, though. He doesn't let go. He places one of his hands carefully on my waist and wraps his arm around it in order to help me. After I surrender, I decide to contribute to whatever he has in mind by grabbing his shirt. The movement startles him and he involuntarily leans even closer.

My eyes are wide when they meet his in the darkness. He's so close. The heat of his body warming up mine, his breath against my cheek.

_I want this._

I don't understand what I want. At least not until my eyes land on his lips, being only inches away from mine. I swallow and start taking deep breaths. In, out, in, out.

"Katniss," he whispers, his voice full of emotion. It makes me want to scream. Everything makes me want to scream. My lips brush ever so slightly against his jaw.

"I'm cold," I whimper.

"Of course you are," he replies as if he's in pain.

None of us hears the door open.

"Peeta?" Tyler's shocked voice makes Peeta tense. His grip tightens even more. Tyler's eyes haven't been wider. "What the…"

"Katniss and I are going home. You let her drink. She can't walk on her own. I have to get her home," Peeta rushes to explain. I want to yell at him that I'm not a cripple but I know there's no point in doing it.

"I let her drink one glass. I believe she _can_ walk." Peeta doesn't know how to answer to this. Tyler speaks again. "But if you want to get her home so badly, then I'm coming with you."

"You don't need t—"

"—I said I'm coming with you." Peeta lowers his head, looking away from me. He understands it's final.

* * *

><p>"Get out!" I scream.<p>

"Shh…Katniss, Mireille and dad will be here. Soon," Peeta reminds me.

"Get. _Out_. Both of you! I want to change. I want to take this thing off." I motion to the dress Prim wanted me to wear. Neither of them knows what to say. They're both staring at me. Peeta looks like he doesn't trust me, while Tyler looks like he doesn't trust his brother with me.

They don't leave until I move towards them and push them out of the door with all of my remaining force and shut it right after I've realized I'm all alone. I lean against it, my ear touching the wood, when I hear it. A body colliding with the wall.

I shuck in my breath. I assume this 'body' is Tyler pushing Peeta. Though, when I hear Peeta's hiss, I know I was wrong. It's the other way round.

"What you saw _never_ happened. She's _drunk_, she won't remember a _thing_ in the morning. Don't mention this to anyone, do you hear me?" I hear Tyler mumble something I can't quite catch. I can only understand he's agreeing.

I turn around and cover my ears, not wanting to hear anything else. Moments later I fall awkwardly on the bed. I sink in the mattress, not caring neither about changing into the clothing I wear for sleep or about the single tear following its way down my cheek.

I don't care now. But I _will_ tomorrow. Even if I _am_ drunk…Peeta's wrong. Because I _will_ remember.

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><p><strong>AN: There. You have it. Please, tell me what you think. I felt like this chapter was a bit slow…**

**In case you were wondering…you will see Gale in the next chapter.**

**For now you can always try reviewing;)**

**P.S. I was too tired to check the chapter. I just...published it. I'm sorry for the horrible mistakes.**


	9. Chapter IX: December

**A/N: Hello there;) I was planning on writing the next chapter of my other story but there was something I needed to clarify here…**

**I'm really sorry if I made you believe Katniss and Peeta kissed in the previous chapter because this never happened. This is probably not your fault (I tend to describe things vaguely sometimes) and I don't intend on being rude but…please, pay a little bit more attention to the details. I totally understand you, since there are some times I skip even paragraphs-not just sentences-but if you tried…It would probably be better for you. Not that there is a problem with me explaining. I'm only saying this for your sake.**

**I apologize in advance for no Peeta/Katniss interaction.**

**P.S. The last part of this chapter takes place almost a week after less—I guess it will make sense.**

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><p><strong>Title of the fanfic<strong>:House of chaos

**Summary**:[AU/New characters].What if Peeta and Katniss never were tributes in the Games? What if President Snow was dead? What if two people with a past suddenly decided to reunite? Would the members of the new family coexist or would they live in a house of chaos?

**Chapter** 9:(IX)

**Genre**: Romance/ Family

**Rated:T** (13+) for violence, language, and possible future references to adult themes.

**Disclaimer: **I only own the plot and the new names of the characters. Everything else belongs to Suzanne Collins.

Special thanks to (for reviewing):_HungerGamesLover1020, ms-archer17, SparksFly23, HungerGleek, Ginny Lakeboom, PeetaLuver1_[can't keep them apart forever, right?;)]_, Lgwater27, yeeeitscarmen, KMloveya, iam97, SnineTheTribute_[your review was for chapter two, though, I don't thing anyone will mind, if I reply here. I'm afraid I can't really describe the Rebellion. I wanted to write something lighter from the very start and writing about how the Capitol went down is not in my plans. I'm really sorry if I disappointed you, but I truly can't. I have already planned twenty whole chapters (without writing them of course)]_, purpleboo, Sometimes It Lasts_[I thought it would be better to have a nice Gale in my story, not only for the Peeta 'fans' but also for the Gale ones. So…yeah. A non-threatening Gale was in order. I'll take your request (about Katniss telling her best friend) into consideration and present it (probably) in this chapter]and_brittanyleec._

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><p>I knew he would be here. I knew it from the moment I crawled under the weak spot of the fence. Like I always have.<p>

_Old habits die hard, Catnip._

He knew I would come, too. Otherwise, he wouldn't be sitting on the grass with my bow and arrows in his hands, in our meeting place. His gaze lifts to meet mine only after we are five feet apart. He gives me a warm smile and waits for me to approach him and, eventually, sit beside him.

"Hey, Gale," I whisper softly, lowering my gaze to the hands resting on my lap. A silent 'hello' follows my greeting before we are both trapped in an uncomfortable silence, which is unlikely for us. Gale-my hunting partner, my friend-and I never had problems with making conversation. The fact almost irritates me, when I remember this is my whole fault. I was the one who made everything complicated for him, or that's what I think.

He must have sensed I'm not okay. He couldn't have _not_. He's like my brother. I huff in exasperation and decide to break the silence.

"Aren't you going to ask me?" I challenge and raise my head to look at him. He does, too and, then, shrugs.

"Ask you what?" he says. I close my eyes and attempt to let them open only after I've made sure my gaze stays on the tree across from ours. I know he's expecting to hear my reply, though, I still wait some seconds before giving it to him.

"I don't know…Anything. If I'm okay…what happened…," my voice lowers in hesitation after the last word is spoken. _He_ has to ask me, not the other way round. If there's something I despise, that would be me sounding weak.

"I would ask you," he tells me. I don't need to turn around and study his face to understand that what he intended on saying isn't over. Though, it looks like he believes whatever this thing is can wait.

"But…?" I encourage impatiently. Because there _is_ a 'but'.

"But I don't think I have the right to do that anymore, Catnip. We haven't been calling each other for months. We haven't been in contact for more than that. I feel like I'm not allowed to ask you about what's going on in your life." His explanation is like a painful stab to me. Where is the Gale I used to know? The Gale that used to have so much fire in him is now _gone_.

"Who…who says you're not allowed to know? I'm positive I never did." If his chuckle wasn't nervous, I may have turned to glare at him.

"And I'm positive you _would_, if I started bombarding you with _my_ questions," he reasons. I still refuse to look at him. I hate it when he's so right, let alone when I want to prove him wrong.

I close my eyes and count to twenty before I turn to look at him again. There are so many times I've heard him say I'm like an open book to him. I can't act. I can't lie. I could never say the same for him. He always knew how to control his thoughts and emotions out of the woods, just like he always knew how to hide the truth from those who didn't believe his actions had an ulterior motive-when, in reality, they did have a different meaning.

I could never discover what anyone else couldn't, because I never really _needed_ to. He always let me be aware of his problems as well as his family's happy or miserable moments. However, now he has decided not to speak, I need to find out on my own.

I gently chew on my bottom lip and watch the sadness in his eyes, meaning that he's at an impasse. He doesn't know what to do with me.

"You've changed." The statement is the only thing I have to say for now. It's a declaration I needed to make out loud. He has the right to hear this. His facial expression instantly changes. The all too familiar smirk I have been used to for so long, the one that usually invites me or challenges me, is back.

"So have you," he replies. I let out a long breath. I don't know whether a 'change' is a good or a bad thing. If I take my new families beliefs into consideration, I will have to go for the former. Though, the urge to take also Gale's opinion prompts me to neglect my other urge, which has to do with staying completely silent for the rest of the morning.

"You know…I usually find myself thinking whether these sudden changes in my life will be beneficial in the end. I wonder…is it worth the effort…or not?" Gale's playful expression begins to faint. Had he not answered straight away, I would have probably questioned him.

"The effort," he mumbles, gaining this way my attention. He has pointed out a word I never really thought of insisting on. "What are you trying to achieve, Catnip?" he asks.

I lower my head, but don't take my time to think. It will undoubtedly raise suspicion. Instead, I just say the first thing I'm capable of coming up with.

"I'm trying to be a better person…I guess." If I could will the words back in my mouth, I would. This sounds so unlike me. I should have probably waited to consider my reply better.

Gale sighs. "Do you remember our last phone call?" he asks. Of course I do. Our last, first and only. I nod. "I had told you not to think otherwise than you already do. Well, I never told you _that_, but I _still_ said you're more than just okay." I open my mouth to object but he raises his palm to stop me. "Yes, you are. You never underestimated yourself that much." This time I ignore him and answer.

"I don't underestimate myself. This has nothing to do with self-esteem." He shakes his head in response. "Really! I never thought I'm not…you know…_enough_ for something. I only want to…" I press my lips together, trying to think of what to say next. I need to be convincing. Gale's stubbornness has not changed at all. I can't decide whether I want to be pleased or irritated by the fact.

"This is worse than I expected it to be," he mutters under his breath but I do hear him. I cross my arms over my chest.

"Now, what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Well, _that_ is supposed to mean you're telling me as well as yourself _half_ of the truth. You don't believe you're not enough for something," he says in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I thought we had already established the fact," I tell him.

"Yes, but you're still lying to yourself. No, Katniss, don't look at me like that! If you want me to help you, you will at least get to hear my guess."

"Fine. Spit it out already."

"You're not trying to be enough for _something_, you're trying to be enough for _someone_. You don't really _know_ it…but you still act this way. Subconsciously," he tries to explain. I frown.

"Gale…you know I could ever…I could ever like someone the way you're implying right now. I just…_can't_," I whisper, staring at my hands. I start drawing patterns on the soil with the edge of my right boot. _I_ gave him the right to think I would allow this sort of relationship between me and someone else. _I_ was the one to kiss him. The last part makes me cringe.

"Catnip…" he calls and I already know he's asking for eye contact. I'm not ready to give it to him yet. I am too ashamed of my almost thoughtless actions to accomplish that.

"Catnip, look at me," he demands this time. I have no other choice but to obey. He leans closer. "Everyone has weak moments. You can't always control that." My eyes grow larger before I have the chance to register it. Not only do I think about him talking to me in an entirely different way than he normally would, but also about the events of last night. As soon as my thoughts go back to them, the horrible headache I had from the moment I opened my eyes this morning returns. I choose to pay more attention to Gale's behavior towards me.

"You've changed," I repeat as if it is a bad thing. It is effective.

"You don't need to remind me. Of course I have. But the problem is not me, it's you. In fact, it's obvious you already know what I'm talking about. You already have a person in your mind."

"I don't want to have weak moments. When will they…when will they stop? I need them to stop. I don't know if I can handle this," I tell him, being perfectly aware that I have already started talking as if I don't even know what I'm referring to.

"I believe you can make it stop, if you want to. It depends on how far you have gone…and…hold on. This conversation has gotten too general for my taste. You may not wish to let me know, but I need to believe we're on the same page right now," he says. I give him a questioning glance.

"The same page? What do you mean?"

"I mean that we are to talk about the same thing. That's in case we want this to work."

Seconds later, I nod my head in agreement. "Right," I tell him. Fortunately, he starts asking questions instead of expecting me to just talk to him about what's bothering me. I wouldn't know how to start, anyway.

"Okay. First of all; we're talking about a guy, correct?" he says with a raised eyebrow. Am I really having this conversation with him?

"I don't know," I reply in a small voice. He has both eyebrows raised now.

"You can't _not_ know, Catnip. Do you have a certain person in your mind right now or not?" he asks impatiently.

"I always have a person in my mind. Blonde hair, blue eyes. But I'm afraid she's not a guy. Not really…" I say, trying to turn my troubled expression into a thoughtful one.

"Yes, and I always have my family in my mind. I'm serious, though. I know you wouldn't be exactly capable of describing your feelings to me, but…if you could blame someone for the situation you're in, would it be easy for you to…think of a name?" he wonders hesitantly. I'm aware he's not doing it for me. I shudder when the name _does_ come in my mind.

"If you mean somebody who makes me forget what's real and what's not, then, yes, I do have a name." As I finish I realize that Gale's bewilderment is not _just_evident. "Besides the liquor," I add to baffle him even more.

"The liquor?" he repeats questioningly as he chooses to insist on the last part. I'm glad he has neglected the first one, although I still feel like he will after this is over.

"Yeah…I drank some yesterday night, in the party," I explain indifferently.

"I haven't seen you drink before," he mutters. _That's because I haven't drunk before._"Tell me you didn't drink more than a glass," he tells me as he groans, realizing what I was implying.

"Well, I didn't drink more than four," I profess. He runs a hand through his hair.

"Let me guess. You woke with a headache—which by the way has not _disappeared_ yet. And…you were sick."

"I'm not sick!" I rush to defend myself.

"No, not this way. I mean you had this urge of…throwing up." I frown when he makes himself clearer. I start counting on my fingers and do my best not to smirk when I watch his shocked expression with the corner of my eyes.

"Alright, I'm only joking. I was feeling a bit nauseous but got better as soon as I came here. The fresh air helps, you know?"

"Tell me about it," he mumbles. What's with all the mumbling today?

"You've drunk, too?" I wonder, attempting to change the topic completely. I suddenly don't want him to know nothing about the way Peeta confuses me. I don't like being confused.

"I'm nineteen, remember? The first time I drunk _this_ much was…in…no wait. You've gotta guess where," he challenges.

"Hmm…let's see…when was it?"

"Three years ago, with Cartwright's best friend. She wasn't in my class so…I don't remember her name. She was blonde…and stupid…"

"Gale! There are some times you can be such a…" I trail off right after I scold him.

"Such a…?" he presses.

"This is out of the point. Why don't you tell me what happened?" I suggest hopefully.

"Because this is also out of the point. You can't really think I've forgotten about _it_, can you?" he says. I wince. Of course he wouldn't. "What do you mean _real_?" he adds as he manages to recall our previous conversation.

I hesitate for a moment before deciding to answer. "There are some times…I dream. I dream of lots of things…and lots of people. I have dreamt of dad, Prim, Delly Cartwright-that's Zoe's younger sister by the way-the teachers. Hell, I've even dreamt of Buttercup! And you…and…" I exhale deeply.

"…and him," he finishes for me.

"And him," I confirm. "The problem is that when I dream of him, I'm always puzzled in the end. I don't remember what happened…or what never did. Oh my God, this is so embarrassing," I whisper and bury my face in my hands.

"Catnip?"

"Yes?" I murmur in my palms.

"This is a good change. If you think you have started to like him in the way you never allowed yourself to like anyone, I can assure you it's a good thing." I raise my head to glare at him.

"No! It's not…it's not that! But even if it was the case, it wouldn't be a good thing," I reply.

"Really? Why do you think so? I personally believe you'd survive," he teases and gives me a smile.

"We're talking just hypothetically, right?" I ask.

"Of course." His full-of-sarcasm voice results in the side of my knee colliding with his forcefully.

"Then, if we are, I think the fact that I would be scared of having to face a relationship of _that_ kind wouldn't be the main factor I would hold back. I would survive as you place it, but I wouldn't be able to live with it." I wait five more seconds before rushing to add my last words. "You said hypothetically, remember that."

He chuckles in response. "Yes, I remember that," he says in an amused tone. He wouldn't be so amused, if he knew…

"Come on," he finally says. "We came here to hunt, not to talk." We both know this is not true. We both have more than enough money to feed our families. I agree with him, anyway. It's not like I haven't missed this. He stands up, the smile I see only when he's in the woods never leaving his face now. I smile back, but stay where I am, considering whether I want to tell him now or not.

He offers his hand to help me stand. I stare at it sadly.

"Gale…I'm sorry for yesterday…I shouldn't have done it just like that," I admit. He withdraws his hand and shakes his head.

"You know I would have listened. I can't ask you what's wrong anymore. I'm always willing to help you, but you have to be the one to—"

"—you know I'm not the one to ask for it! You know I can't just dial your number and call you when you're in District Two! When I don't know what you're doing!" I snap in a newfound anger. I don't know why his words annoy me so much. He doesn't answer, giving me time to calm myself down. When I actually do, I sigh and speak for once more.

"Are you serious? You and your…" I still have problems with saying the word out loud. I don't complete my sentence, though, he immediately know what I'm talking about.

"I haven't been in a serious relationship with the girls in Twelve. I never allowed myself to have a serious relationship with them. They weren't worth it. I honestly have no idea whether _she_ is worth it or not. I can't say I'm in love," he tells me nonchalantly. I breathe in relief. His words are comforting, at least for now.

I prop my weight on my elbows and struggle to stand on my two feet. When he asks me if I need his help, I stick my tongue out at him and, eventually, make it on my own. I take my bow and arrows from the ground and follow his lead. I'm not that shocked when he reveals the first time he drunk like I did was in the bakery. He wasn't exactly welcome but he got the _stupid blonde_ friend of Zoe to help him.

* * *

><p>I push the door of the bakery open and make a gesture so that Gale will come in, too. He's the one carrying the bag with the game, anyway.<p>

The fact that this place belongs to my mother's future husband has made me feel more comfortable than I did when I came to trade for bread.

"Ah! I see you've started hunting again!" Dorian exclaims with a huge smile. "Tell you what. I'm going to take care of some things in the cellar, since we'll be going home in about an hour. I'll send Peeta—we'll talk in five minutes." I stare at him. I thought today was Tyler's turn to help in the bakery, not Peeta's. I was wrong. Apparently.

Dorian's still waiting for a reply but I'm too stunned to answer. Peeta's not supposed to be _here_.

"Thank you, sir," Gale breaks the silence and shoots me a cautious glance. Do I even want to know what's in his head right now?

"Peeta! Customers!" I turn to look at Gale. It's a miracle my lip hasn't started bleeding yet. He's still studying me with a suspicious expression which would worry me, if I weren't worried because of Peeta. I'm afraid that what I remember from last night is nothing close to a dream. The thought makes my whole body shake like a leaf.

"You cold?" Gale asks. I part my lips to answer, when Peeta comes in the room.

"Good morning! Welcome to Mellark's, is there anything we can do…" he stops dead in his tracks as soon as his gaze falls on the two of us. He gulps, as if swallowing an unpleasant feeling and continues in a low voice. "…for you?" he almost whispers, making me wonder how many times they're forced to say this phrase in a regular day.

"We're here to trade actually," I hear Gale say from beside me. Peeta knows there's no need for this. I live in the same place as the Mellarks. Though, Gale's too stubborn to accept any kind of product from the bakery without _giving_ something. This is something only _I_ can understand.

"I see," Peeta says when he gets over his shock. Gale is about to walk forward but he, all of sudden, halts and turns to give me a concerned look. This is when I realize that he must have finally felt my iron grip on his arm.

"Catnip? What's the matter?" I'm so unbelievably tired of hearing the same question over and over but I can't find the courage to tell him so. The nauseous feeling I could find nowhere when I was in the woods is too distracting.

"Gale…I'll be sick," I warn. Before he has the chance to ask me anything else or hold me back, I'm on my way to the restroom of the bakery. I recall asking Ingrid about where I could find it. I push past Peeta who runs to see what's wrong and slam the door shut.

I immediately grab both edges of the sink and lean against it. I close my eyes and bow my head, patiently waiting for the sickness to go away.

I knew Dorian had a delivery for the Christmas morning, I just never thought he would take Peeta with him. I try to push every thought concerning the Mellarks aside, but soon accept it's inevitable, since I'm in the place they work in. Peeta's voice from behind the door makes it even worse.

"Katniss? Do you need any help?" he asks and knocks softly on the door. I turn to face the door.

"N-no, thanks. Don't…don't come in," I tell him in a weak voice which seems to worry him even more.

"Are you sure? Should I call dad?" I wait for him to stop questioning me and, eventually, approach the door to exit the small room. I know I can't stay in here forever.

I place my hand on the handle and begin to open it, but instinctively gasp as soon as I come face to face with him. We both step awkwardly aside for the other to pass but eventually bump into each other. I realize the fact that one of us should have stayed still a little too late, since the soft groan in already out of my mouth.

"Sorry," we mumble in unison and I hear his brief, nervous laugh. He holds my shoulders and walks from around me in order to have better access in the room. He stares at me for some seconds before shaking his head as if to clear it and closing the door behind him.

I walk back to Gale and see he's holding a back from the bakery. I assume the transaction has been made so I keep walking until I reach the door of the shop again.

"Are you coming?" I ask, trying to find a neutral tone for my voice for one more time. He doesn't answer but approaches me and makes his answer clear. He's the first to get out, though, I follow soon enough, not wanting to cause any trouble to Peeta. The fact that he didn't look comfortable at all is pretty threatening to me. Maybe last night wasn't a bad dream, after all…

I am brought back to reality when Gale cups my shoulders, like Peeta did earlier, and shakes me violently. I wince when the contents of the bag he's holding crush against my chest.

"What the heck, Katniss? Have you ever seen a _brother_ look at his _sister_ like _that_?" he hisses in a frustrated tone.

"I don't…I don't know what you're talking about," I admit and push him away. I want to glare at him for treating me this way, but I can't, since I have no idea of what he might be implying.

"Of course you don't. You were looking at him the same way!" he exclaims incredulously. The expression of disbelief makes me even more curious than I was moments ago.

"The same way? How was I looking at him? I didn't know there are different ways to look at someone," I say. This is a lie. I know what look to use when I want to smile at Prim, I know what look to use when I want everyone to leave me alone and, of course, I know when or who deserves my death glares the most.

"The hell you do!" he yells. This time I can't really help the angry stare. Anger has started boiling inside me.

"Why are you suddenly shouting?" I yell back and take two steps towards the other direction.

"Because…" His voice is quiet now. "Damn it, Catnip…Don't you know what you're getting yourself into by…" he sighs, not bothering to finish his sentence. "You're in trouble," he finally decides to say.

"I'm not in trouble," I object.

"Not yet. But you will be, if you start feeling that way about…about _him_," he states in confidence.

Realization hits me with full force. Gale is less oblivious than I usually am. He does know what he's talking about.

"Come on. We'll talk about that later," he breathes and gestures for me to follow him. I shake my head.

"My house is not in the Seam anymore, remember?" I ask.

"Oh, right…see you soon, then. Happy Christmas," he tells me with a half smile. I don't even try to smile back. He will know if it is not real. I hate giving Gale forced smiles, anyway.

"Happy Christmas. Say hello to Hazelle and the kids from me." He nods and slowly turns to start walking away. Just before he's about to get out of my sight by going around the corner of the building, I call his name. I can distinguish his questioning look even from where I'm standing.

I don't know why I tell him, but I can't exactly take the words back when they're out of my mouth.

"It's Peeta," I confess. We both know what I mean by this. Peeta is the one to confuse me. Peeta was the reason why I kissed Gale, as stupid as that might ring in my ears, if I say it out loud. Peeta is the complicated one. _It's Peeta_.

Gale frowns but, soon enough nods. He agrees with me. He understands the confusion my step brother causes me.

A really strange thought crosses my mind. _If only Madge was here to tell me what to do._

* * *

><p>As usual, the kitchen is the first room I enter after being out of the house. This or the living room are the places where I can find my mother without having to invade her privacy, even though she's told me she doesn't mind.<p>

"You're late, little sister. We've just had breakfast," Tyler tells me. There's something different in his voice-something that makes me look at him in complete surprise. Every time he calls me this, there's always some amusement to be found, even if he doesn't necessarily want to tease me.

"It's okay," I reply, then turn to my mother. "I was out with Gale," I inform her like I always used to do. 'Out' means 'in the woods'. It is quite safe saying that out loud now that the Capitol has gone down. Though, it's a habit I can't seem to be able to get rid of so easily.

She nods and gets up from the table to start carrying the plates in the sink so as to wash them. Prim almost immediately greets me and follows her example. I sigh and pull a chair to sit across from Tyler. Minutes later, though, I realize what a bad choice I've made for once more. He calls me in his room, claiming his wants to show me something, and I have no other choice but to accept.

By the time the door is closed, the thoughtful Tyler has reappeared.

"Sit," he offers as he positions himself on the bed, patting the spot right beside him. I don't hesitate to obey.

"What is it that you needed to show me?" I wonder, being at the same time perfectly aware he can't have called me for this. There is no wonder there's another purpose, an ulterior motive.

"I actually wanted to talk to you," he says in a serious voice which almost terrifies me. That can't be good, especially if I take into consideration the events of the party.

"S-sure. No problem," I assure him.

"I will…ask you some questions…because there are some things that are still unclear in my head. I want to believe I'm not stupid—do you understand what I'm trying to say?" I want to ask him what remains unclear in his head as well as tell him he's not 'stupid'. Instead, I only shake my head in response.

"Right, sorry. I'll try to make you understand. The only thing you need to do for now is…you know, answer."

"Okay," I whisper without really meaning to sound so weak.

"So…this is probably going to be really immediate for you…but what exactly do you remember from yesterday?" he wants to know. I should have known he would want to talk about that. I should have seen it coming. As much as I want to believe nothing from last night was a dream. Even if this means I…

I give my head a violent shake in order to sort out my thoughts. Then, I remember Tyler's still waiting for an answer.

"I don't know…everything's like a blur…I can recall random conversations, random people and random…events…but it was all too much. I couldn't have done everything I think I did, right?" I say and it's like I'm talking on my own. I suddenly remind myself of my conversation with Gale, in the woods. I should probably use some of the excuses from it.

"Go on," Tyler encourages me. I gulp and make a small movement with my head, letting him know that this was what I was planning on doing, anyway.

"Yes. I dream all the time…so some…_things_ I remember might be things I have not experienced in reality. Plus they're nearly impossible."

"You seemed as puzzled as I am. You know, we could talk about what has happened and clear everything out, right? I talked to Peeta, too. The previous month," he informs me. A shiver runs involuntarily down my spine. Tyler seems to notice and looks away for a brief moment, before turning his attention back to me.

"What did you talk about?" I wonder so that I won't sound as if I'm uncomfortable when it comes to referring to the youngest Mellark.

"About stuff," he replies after shrugging.

"Stuff?"

"Yeah…stuff I can't discuss with you, just like I won't be able to tell him about _our_ talk." How is he so certain everything will turn out the way he wants them to? Does he want to hear _it_ or not? I'm positive I _need_ to hear _it_, even if I don't want to.

"Look, Tyler, I'm really tired right now. My head's killing me," I lie. It does hurt but I've had much worse than a simple headache in the past. "Perhaps…we can talk some other time. Besides, what I have in my mind is most likely coming from a dream. I couldn't have done—it's so unlike me to—" I sigh.

"What do you have in your mind, Katniss?" he presses. "Is there something in particular?"

"Yes and no. Both. I have lots of things in my mind and something in particular. But as I've told you, I must have dreamt it."

"Probably. If this is that inappropriate…you should probably forget about it…and move on…do you understand now?" he asks. I try my best not to let my eyes widen. I can't help taking his question as a warning. How much oblivious is he to what happened? Is he oblivious _at all_?

"Completely," I reply. My answer satisfies him and he finally finds the ability to smile at me again. As different as this smile is from his proper one, it is a comfort. It is like he's telling me that if I forget what I "dreamt", he might be able to forget what he _saw_. Even if I try to search my mind to find the answer for what this might have been, I will find no solution. I wasn't lying when I said everything is like a blur.

"Have some rest before they get back from the bakery. You look like you need it," he advises.

* * *

><p>"Oh come on, Catnip. I'll be back in a few months! I'll be back for the wedding! I can't leave you alone when it's time, can I?" he says. I glare at the train as well as almost every passenger happening to look at me.<p>

"You said you'd stay for the holidays. We have more than a week before school opens again in District Two! You should have at least stayed for the New Year! How can you be away from your home?" I whine, although I know there's no point in doing it. Gale would have stayed, if he had any other choice.

"You know it's not possible. They need me at work. And we should probably be there to get used to the new place before I start working again. It's not like me, mom or the kids want to go," he reminds me.

"Katniss, he's right…we'll see them soon," Prim tells me in a hopeful voice.

"Seven months? Do you call that _soon_?"

"You'll be calling each other." Gale laughs and I'm tempted to laugh with him.

"She doesn't like the phone. She doesn't like calling people," he tells my sister. She giggles. She knows, too.

"Yeah, you two keep making fun of me and I'll—"

"—Gale! You'll have to take the train after the holidays if you miss this one!" Hazelle calls from the window. I smile at Posy who bumps her nose against the glass.

"Comin'! Alright, Catnip, save your threat for when I come back again. Take care of her, Prim."

"It should be the other way round. _Me_ taking care of _her_," I say.

"Believe me…I didn't get anything wrong," he jokes, takes his things and runs towards the train before I have the chance to say anything else.

Prim and I wait until he gets in the compartment his family is. He takes Posy in his arms and helps her wave out of the window. My smile widens.

When it's time for my sister and I to leave for home again, I take her hand and laugh at the comment she makes about wanting the New Year to be special. I never really wished for such a thing and I still don't feel like doing it. I only decide to neglect the bad feeling concerning what's going to come next. I don't need my sister to worry.

However, I can't seem to ignore the fact that if something goes wrong-if I don't find the way to get over my weak moments-it will be much more difficult for me to explain to Prim. It will be difficult than just making clear what the feeling between my and Gale's kiss was. This time her reaction might not be desirable. She might not _understand_ the way I would like her to.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I needed to update today! Sorry for any mistakes in this chapter, but I'm in a hurry!**

**Tell me what you think of it! The next chapter will be better, I promise.:)**


	10. Chapter X: January

**A/N: Wow, ten chapters already! Half of my story is over…and I don't know how I feel about it yet. Maybe I want it to be over…or not…**

**However, I know I'm glad it's January (no, I know it's March now, but for Katniss and Peeta in the fanfic…it is January.). I'm closer to fulfilling most of your requests.**

**P.S. I'll try to have less typos in this one…**

* * *

><p><strong>Title of the fanfic:<strong>House of chaos

**Summary:**[AU/New characters].What if Peeta and Katniss never were tributes in the Games? What if President Snow was dead? What if two people with a past suddenly decided to reunite? Would the members of the new family coexist or would they live in a house of chaos?

**Chapter 10:**(X)

**Genre:** Romance/ Family

**Rated:**T (13+) for violence [not so much violence so far, I know], language [oh, this will come], and possible future references to adult themes [I'm not so sure what I mean by saying this. I guess you need to bear with me for the time being:/].

**Disclaimer:**I only own the plot and the new names of the characters. Everything else belongs to Suzanne Collins.

**Special thanks to (for reviewing):**_**iam97, SWPeetaxKatnissAvatarTLA, LiveLaughLovekataang, KMloveya**_[remember how you asked about Cato?;)]_**, HungerGamesLover1020, lolyy**_[don't worry, I'm not a fan of love triangles. No Gale/Katniss in this one. Though, the Katniss/Peeta interaction _will be_ coming]_**, Lgwater27, Ginny Lakeboom**_[your wish is taken into consideration. Tell me if the chapter was what you wanted—well, part of it, since I have much more in store]_**, PeetaLuver1, TheAfterShock, KHO**__,__**marisa123**_[yeah…I don't know how I feel about Katniss/Peeta fluff. But I can't help it in this story, either, so…]and_**FlameofaWing**_.

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><p>"So…how are you so sure this year will be special, Prim?" Darryl asks amused after he has swallowed his potato. Everyone snickers when they hear his question. Tyler almost chokes, resulting in Dorian patting his back twice. The eldest of the three brothers gives us all an apologetic smile.<p>

Mom had insisted on us calling Darryl and his wife for the New Year's lunch , since they weren't present on Christmas. Once the conversation about the wedding in the end of June was over, Prim referred to what she had told me the day Gale left District Twelve.

"Oh, I know I can make it special. Remember how Kelsey told me she learned how to ride a horse in District Ten? She promised to—"

"—No," I say before she has the chance to finish her sentence. I already know what she's asking for. She frowns.

"But you didn't even get to hear my sentence!" she complains.

"Yeah, well…I don't think you were about to tell me she promised to ride a horse in front of you. She promised something else. And the answer is no," I repeat with confidence. Her brows furrow.

"Why not, Katniss? Mom would let me do that—wouldn't you, mom?" she asks before she turns to look at our mother with an expecting expression.

"I don't know, honey. Why don't you tell us what you have in mind?" she suggests and the muscles of Prim's face relax. I speak before she does.

"I have tried to teach you archery. I have tried to teach you how to climb a tree. Tyler can teach you how to bake your favorite cookies. Peeta can teach you how to paint. You can take up whatever sport you want—even dancing. But you are not allowed to take up horse riding lessons." She opens her mouth to protest, but I raise my hand to stop her. "Not to mention the fact that there are no horses here."

"I know, Katniss. But there are horses in Ten! If we ever visited Ten, we could ride one—I'm talking about you, too!" she says. I let out a long breath. _If we ever visited Ten._ That's another story.

"Girls," mother says in a warning tone. I look at the faces of my new family guiltily. We are supposed to eat, not argue.

"Sorry, mom," Prim and I mumble in unison. We continue eating in silence for a while, before my sister decides to break it.

"This is not the only reason why this year will be special." Once again, she has everyone's attention. I'm almost scared of hearing her next words. I hate it when I am forced to fight with her. "I also have this feeling…Mom and Dorian are getting married…Darryl and Ingrid are getting married…and everything's different. In a good way of course," she explains. I can't help but smile at this. Prim has always been the optimistic type.

"That's nice to hear," Dorian tells her. He sounds pleased his future wife's daughters have started to not only accept him, but also consider him a part of their family. Or at least Prim considers him a part of her family. I don't know what to think of it yet.

"The food's perfect, Mireille," Tyler compliments and, soon enough, the rest of the Mellarks agree with him. Prim and I share a knowing grin with each other.

"Oh, I would thank you, but most of the credit goes to Katniss," she says. I give her a bewildered look. What is that supposed to mean? I never helped her with this particular meal. Besides, I am a horrible cooker.

"Why me?" I eventually voice my question.

"We wouldn't be eating the turkey, if it weren't for you. Of course we could have bought something else from the butcher…but I always prefer fresh meat," she replies. I groan.

"You sound so much like Sae. This is exactly what she told me when I went hunting with Gale. That she had missed my game."

"Why don't you do that more often, then? You should always remember that creating a routine is calming. And helpful in your case," she reminds me.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But hunting is not the same without Gale. It's not just killing animals. Sorry, Prim," I say when I see her flinch. "It's also that…I don't like doing it on my own. I miss the company."

"The company or…_his_ company?" Tyler asks in a playful tone, receiving this way one of my best glares.

"Tyler," Dorian scolds, making his son raise both of his hands in surrender.

"Alright. Alright, sorry, sister." I simply shrug in response. I have learned to recognize the tone he uses to tease me, just like I have learned not to pay so much attention when he does.

The rest of the time passes agonizingly slow for me and I am more than grateful when they discuss issues I cannot talk about. I only sit there and eat with silence, stealing several glances from around me. When we have all finished eating, I even volunteer to clean the table. I don't exactly avoid interacting with them, I'm just saving more time to prepare myself for what might be coming next.

I slowly start taking the plates from the table to put them in the sink. I guess it's only fair I do the cleaning, since I was the only one who couldn't really help with cooking. Peeta's voice from behind me startles me.

"Looks like you need some help," he says with a smile. I gasp. "Oh. Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay. And…no, I don't need any help. I'm pretty sure I can make it on my own." He shakes his head.

"I never said you couldn't," he replies in a matter-of-fact tone before taking three of the glasses in his hands. He brings them in the sink, too and turns the faucet on. I get that as an invitation to get the rest of the glasses for him.

Minutes later, when everything's where it should have been, I find myself struggling with getting the stupid mistletoe in place. I brush a strand of hair off my forehead with the back of my palm and let out a long, frustrated sigh.

"I honestly don't understand why we need that thing over here," I tell Peeta, gesturing towards the mistletoe. He chuckles.

"Décor," he says amused.

"Well, screw décor," I retort irritated.

"Where did you find it?" he wants to know.

"Uh…I think it was on the table from the very start. My mom must have bought it. If it was any other way, it wouldn't make sense," I say in an accusatory tone, doubling the amusement in his eyes.

"O…kay," he agrees, hardly holding back from laughing out loud. Then, he approaches me to help me. He examines the object with his fingers and looks back to table in a thoughtful expression. I roll my eyes and pull a chair to go under the table.

"Katniss…what are you doing…exactly?" he wonders incredulously.

"Ah, nothing. Just getting a carrot I missed when I was carrying the first dishes," I explain. This time he can't seem to be able to help the laugh.

"Are you serious?" he asks.

"Dead serious. Now shut up and focus on your mistletoe," I tell him. I wait for a reply, but when it doesn't come, I decide to speak again. "Sorry, did that sound a bit rude?" I add with a smile, even though I know he can't see me.

"Hardly. I was just following _somebody's_ instructions. Shutting it and focusing on the mistletoe," he says nonchalantly. I shake my head and reach for the carrot. The words are out of my mouth before I have the chance to stop them.

"I'm glad we are okay now," I say. My eyes instantly widen. I bring my one hand to my lips to hinder anything else from coming out as Peeta's movements still.

I hold my breath as I watch his feet approach me from the other side of the table, pulling the chair further away. He kneels on the floor and meets my eyes.

"What do you mean?" he asks. I drop both of my hands, letting the carrot go back to the ground again. I turn my back on him and pretend to search for it.

"Oh, nothing. I was just talking to myself."

"Katniss," he warns. "Have I ever told you what a horrible liar you are?" I feel my face heat up, which is one more good reason not to turn around and face him.

"I don't remember," I respond. He sighs.

"Are you sure you don't? Because you sound like you actually do." I don't answer. "What did you mean by that?"

"Nothing important. It doesn't matter," I breathe. I hear him move closer.

"Look, if this has anything to do with me…and if it _does_ matter, I would like to know. When you are avoiding people—when you are avoiding _me_," he corrects himself and takes a breath before continuing. "It's not so cool. Just so you know."

"I never said that trying to avoid people was cool. Sure, sometimes it's pleasant. But sometimes it's hard," I say as I finally turn around. I shiver when I realize how close we really are. Our bodies are only inches apart. I unconsciously shoot daggers at his hand, which is raised towards my face. When he sees the look I'm giving it, he lets it curl into a tight fist, before pulling it back. I curse myself for not waiting to see what he would do with it? Comfort me? Slap me? Touch me?

I give my head a violent shake.

_Concentrate, Katniss._

"So…are you going to tell me? Or not?" he insists.

"No, I don't think so. Besides, I haven't found that carrot yet," I lie. Not that the carrot has anything to do with him and me constantly feeling uncomfortable while being around each other…

"Katniss. You have," he says. I shake my head in denial. "But you _have_. You're _holding_ it." I unclench my own fist to see the smashed piece of carrot. I frown.

"Oh."

"Yeah…oh…"

"And it's—bleh…I've gotta wash my hands now," I say and move forward to leave from under the table. Peeta, though, moves at the same time as me. The action results in us bumping into one another. My frown deepens. We seem to be doing that a lot lately.

When I try to sit up again, my back collides with the foot of the table and he stumbles forward, almost falling on top of me, since the furniture is dragged toward my direction. We both gasp in surprise.

"Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to come down here, after all," he speaks first.

"No, it wasn't. No one said you should have," I confirm.

"Uh-huh. But I really wanted you to answer me. You wouldn't have much of a choice once you were trapped, right?" he jokes.

"Looks like I do have a choice. Now move so that we can both leave," I say in a demanding tone. The sound of something falling to the floor takes us by surprise and makes us look to our right.

"That's the…" he trails off. I place my hand on his shoulder and support my weight in order to see what he is talking about.

"You were supposed to keep that in place," I remind him after taking a better look at the mistletoe.

"And you were not supposed to push the table."

"I wouldn't have, if it weren't for you."

"And I wouldn't have come down here, had you answered my question from the beginning."

"Is it my fault you weren't talking to me?"

"No, but it's your fault you decided to drink four whole glasses. You should have known—" he almost immediately stops himself and offers me a forced smile. "I'm not going to argue with you."

"Then, move before Tyler comes." I don't know why the name sounds so threatening to Peeta, but it sure does to me, especially after the previous week. The talk I had with him got me into thinking much more things than I'd like to.

Peeta doesn't lose any time. He crawls forward as if he's on fire. The table moves towards its previous direction again. Only this time it doesn't hit my spine but the back of my head. I let out a soft moan in pain as I watch Peeta making efforts to stand on his feet. I soon follow him and let him help me up, still rubbing my head.

"Are you alright?" he asks in concern. Ingrid has joined us in the kitchen before we even have the time to hear her footsteps.

Her mouth forms an 'oh' once she has spotted us.

"Ingrid," Peeta calls. She offers him a smile and pretends to ruffle her hair. I give her a weird look. It is like she's trying to tell us something. "Uh…th-hanks. ThankyouIngrid." She shakes her head with a knowing grin and exits the room.

"Now…what was that?" I ask, folding both of my arms over my chest.

"Stay still," he instructs and wipes some strands of hair away from my face. He takes my braid in his hands and fixes it a tad bit. I am completely unprepared for each one of his moves and let my hands drop to my sides stunned. "She said something about our hair. They're probably a bit….messed up. At least yours are. How about mine?" he wonders and takes a step back so that I can take a better look at him.

"It's fine. Wait…she _said_? I didn't hear anything."

"Yeah, that's because she didn't really say anything. But you get used to her after a while. You also do not mention it in front of Darryl. He gets protective and…angry. His company is not so pleasant when he's angry."

"I don't understand, Peeta. What are you talking about?" My bewilderment must be quite apparent by now. He exhales.

"Ingrid's not from District Twelve, Katniss," he whispers, managing to double my confusion.

"Where is she from, then?"

"The Capitol," he explains, keeping his voice low. Both of my eyebrows go up.

"The Capitol…but…how can that be? Why would she want to live in Twelve, if she still had the choice to be somewhere better?" I ask. Peeta looks warily towards the exit, probably to make sure nobody is going to hear him.

"Darryl will kill me, if he finds out…but you asked for it. Ingrid doesn't talk because she doesn't have the _ability_ to talk. She's an Avox." My breath catches in my throat.

"An…an Avox? Isn't it a person whose tongue…" I don't even finish my sentence. My whole body shakes like a leaf. He rushes to nod, clearly wishing for the conversation to end. "Oh, God. Oh, God, I'm sorry…I didn't…I didn't know anything…I shouldn't have said…" he brings his index finger to his lips to shush me. The movement makes me realize I've been speaking louder than intended.

"It's okay. Let's not talk about it again," he suggests. I swallow and agree with him. He looks away and smiles. When I follow his gaze I see he's looking at the mistletoe.

"Good thing it's on the table. Why do you think people like seeing it elsewhere? Hanging from walls or doorframes…" he starts.

"Maybe because they're more loyal to tradition than I am," I say.

"You're not loyal to tradition?" I shake my head. "And…your point?"

"My point. Well…maybe people find it easier to stand under a doorframe instead of crawl under a table to kiss," I reason. I almost bite my tongue in regret of what I've just said. Later, though, I decide that pretending I haven't noticed it seems like a better idea. "It is more practical I guess," I attempt to fix it in a hasty voice.

"Perhaps," he tells me as he shrugs. "The carrot," he reminds me, then.

"Right," I say. "The carrot."

I don't even want to think about it, but the inevitable question crosses my mind, anyway.

_What would have happened, if the mistletoe hadn't fallen to the floor on time?_

I quickly push the thought aside. Peeta and I have already established the fact that I'm not loyal to tradition. I can't be.

* * *

><p>The first day of school after the Christmas holidays was, is and will always be awful. I let a long breath escape my lips and walk towards my locker to open it.<p>

I grip the door of it hard, but soon enough regret it. My pupils dilate and I am forced to withdraw my hand once I have realized it is in pain. I bring my two middle fingers in front of my eyes to examine them.

"Damn," I curse when I spot the red drops of blood on my skin. I open the door wider, just to see the black tape holding a single white rose on the metallic surface of it. I feel the anger start boiling inside me.

_Not again…_

My fingers move to my lips so that I can make the small droplets of blood disappear. Blood always made me uneasy, even if it was mine. Those tiny cuts always got on my nerves.

When I see the bleeding won't stop, I turn to face Delly, whose locker is right next to mine.

"Hey, Delly? Do you have any tissues with you?" I ask. She opens and closes her mouth without saying anything, before opening her bag to search in it. Moments later, she gives me what I asked for.

"Here you are," she says.

"Thanks." I wrap it around the tiny wounds and add all of my pressure.

"What is this?" She carefully takes the rose from my locket.

"Nothing too serious. Just…something I had to deal with the whole day. Roses, roses and more roses. I honestly need to sit with someone else. Or alone."

"Oh, I get it. You're talking about Cato," she infers. I nod. "Let me read the card." She takes the card from the tape—the one I hadn't noticed—and starts reading it. Her nose wrinkles. "Here," she says and hands it to me.

"Opposites attract," I read out loud. "And what does this have to do with the rose?"

"Nothing obviously. Why? Did he make sense earlier?" she challenges. I shake my head in confirmation.

"Oh!" I exclaim. Delly looks at me as if I'm a madwoman. "Wait a minute," I tell her and walk towards Cato's locker. It is obvious he notices me standing there with the corner of his eye, but he doesn't acknowledge me. He just smirks.

I place both of my hands on my hips and start tapping my foot on the floor. At this particular moment it is the most nerve-racking sound I can come up with.

"Hey, beautiful," he finally speaks. He has this extremely unique talent of irritating me even more, even when I think I'm already driven over the edge.

"Why did you do it?" I snarl in a demanding tone.

"Did what?" he asks innocently. I clutch the tissue tighter. I can barely hold myself from punching him right in the face.

"You know what. You have been talking about those freaking roses all day long. When did I give you the right?" I snap.

"Don't flatter yourself so much, Everdeen," he argues back.

"Then, do me a favor, will you?"

"Go ahead," he encourages in a dull voice and pretends to yawn.

"Just get lost. Whatever you have in mind…it won't work. Not with _me_."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I can't wait until I see you again," he tells me dismissively. "By the way, your boyfriend's glaring at me. Don't make him wait for too long," he adds in a false seductive tone. I don't know whether it is the one he uses to charm the people around him, but to me it sounds much more than just repelling.

I turn around to see Peeta standing with Delly in front of my locker.

"He's my brother. Everyone in Twelve knows it," I defend myself.

"Doesn't look like that." He slams the door of his own shut and starts walking away.

"What does it look like, then? Hey! Hey, you—" I huff in exasperation. Calling Cato back won't help me. At all. I exhale soundly and return to Delly.

"What did he want?" Peeta asks curiously.

"He didn't ask for anything. I was the one to go there," I let him know.

"He attracts her," Delly says with a smile. I suddenly find her less annoying than normal. Peeta's eyebrows threaten to go over his forehead.

"Oh, but didn't you know, Peeta? Opposites attract," I tell him in an attempt to use Cato's seductive voice. His gaze instantly falls on the card Delly found earlier. He lets out a brief laugh and shakes his head.

"Sure, why not? I bet you—_ow_! Trevor! A warning would have been nice," he growls after his best friend gives him a slap on the back.

"Nah, a warning wouldn't have been fun," he replies and Delly giggles. I roll my eyes.

"Now, we're not going to find out what Peeta bets," she explains.

"Oh, I see. A bet…such an interesting issue," he says thoughtfully and gives me a suggestive look. I scoff. "Jeez, easy, Katniss. I didn't mean to offend you."

"You didn't. It's just…a stupid issue I wouldn't like to talk about. Not an interesting one," I argue.

"Okay. If you say so," he tells me nonchalantly. I nod, letting him know I am in no way going to change my mind. Then, Trevor wraps an arm around Peeta's shoulders.

"Come on, kiddo. Are you coming to my house tonight? Xander is."

"Think of something better. That's not a real reason for me to come," Peeta answers. Trevor stares at him blankly. He obviously doesn't know what to say next. "No, I'm only joking. I'll be there—just call me, if anything comes up." He nods.

Delly sighs. "I can't believe you guys are taking him _again_," she complains. "At least think of something clever to do this time. His stupidity has no limits."

"I'm positive your boy would just _love_ to hear of this," Trevor muses.

"Well, tell him whatever you think you should. The only thing I know is that when you three are together…" she doesn't need to finish her sentence. I suddenly feel like walking away. I don't feel like I have a good enough reason to participate in this, anyway.

"So, you're saying I'm stupid, too?" Peeta infers, feigning offence.

"Each and every one of you," she confirms. She must have felt my uneasiness because she nudges me with her elbow. "You should have seen the absolutely genius stunt he came up with when he was seven. The upside down letters," she tells me, the sarcasm evident in her voice.

"The upside down letters?" I repeat bewildered. "What does this mean?"

"Oh, he barely knew that himself."

"Delly! I was seven! And I can assure you that's clever for a seven-year-old."

"Sure, Peeta. I believe you." Then, she turns to me again. "You see, he didn't want his brothers to know what he wrote and invented this trick—hardly a trick actually—with the mirror." She looks at Peeta for approval and, when she finds none, she simply smirks.

"I don't understand," I confess.

"Okay, Delly. You've already started. You always carry those things with you. Let's get it over with," Peeta says and gestures to her school bag. She walks to her locker to place her things and have better access to her bag. She searches for about half a minute and holds out a small mirror and a piece of paper with a triumphant expression.

"How will I write something on the paper, if I don't have a pen, you genius?" he teases.

"Oh, go get a pen of your own. I won't be wasting mine," she says with a playful grin. They keep bickering until Trevor gives them his pencil with a fed-up expression.

"Here. Take mine. Just shut up." Delly watches as Peeta uses the mirror to write something on the paper. When he's done, she rushes to take it from him and hand it to me.

I hold the note to see what they mean, but soon enough wince. I can't even distinguish what Peeta has written.

_Upside down letters._

I grin and hold it upside down. It still doesn't make any difference.

"Sorry, I still don't understand," I let them know.

"Maybe because you're not supposed to?" Peeta suggests. "At least not without this," he adds, as if it is the most logical thing I could think of, and throws the mirror at me. He flinches when he notices Delly's panicked expression. 'Oops,' he mouths guiltily, but breathes a sigh of relief when I reach forward and catch it.

I open the lid of the small mirror and put the note in front of it so that I will be able to read it. I struggle for some seconds, even though I eventually find the right side of the piece of paper and manage to read it.

_Peeta Mellark._

I lift my gaze to meet Peeta's.

"That's your name," I state.

"Bingo," he replies with a goofy grin.

"What? That was it?" I ask incredulously. Delly laughs, while Peeta shrugs.

"What exactly did you expect? I was _seven_. Besides, you never know. It might be useful in the future." As soon as he notices my raised eyebrows his face falls. "Just forget I ever said that." I smile.

"As you wish. Now come on. Prim will be waiting," I remind him and drag him from his sleeve. He follows me but—at the same time—turns around to bid farewell to Delly and Trevor, promising to meet the latter at 7 pm.

"Katniss? Can I ask you a question?" Prim says hesitantly once we've started making our way back to our house. I don't understand why she would back off like that. She is always allowed to ask me questions.

"Of course, little duck," I reassure her. However, when I notice her lips are still pressed tightly together, I realize she isn't sure about my answer yet. I am about to question her, though, she speaks first.

"In front of Peeta?" she makes herself clear. I open my mouth without really knowing what to say. How embarrassing can that be? Why not in front of Peeta?

I steal a glance from him. It is quite apparent he did the same, although he rushes to avert his gaze from mine once he knows I caught him. He looks guiltily at his feet as he walks with us.

"Yeah…I guess," I reply. I don't really have a choice, anyway. Saying 'no' might hurt not only my sister, but also him.

"Well, I've been thinking of the way Tyler makes fun of you all the time." Tyler making fun of me is not news. Not really. I wait for her to keep talking. "About a certain issue I mean. Gale's issue."

"I think we've already established the fact that the," I gulp and take a last look at Peeta before continuing. "that the kiss between Gale and I meant nothing. It was a stupid thing to do. Really. My fault."

"No, I wasn't about to talk to you about that. I believed you when you said that, remember? I still do," she admits. I blush beet red. This is the reason why she gave me the chance not to say anything in front of Peeta. I'm overreacting.

"Then, what?"

"Then…do you miss going home with him? From school I mean. Is this why you wanted to go home alone in the beginning?"

"Oh. Oh, Prim, no, this has nothing to do with Gale. It was just that…Look, of course I miss going home with the Hawthornes. But going home with you two…it's better than doing it alone. I'm quite certain of that."

"Really?"

"Positive, actually. The fact that I miss things I did in the past doesn't mean that I don't feel like I'm okay now."

"Okay is not the same as happy," she reminds me. I nod.

"I know, Prim. I know. But happy is not an easy word, either. After everything that has happened to mom and us…I'm scared that fate—or whatever this thing is—might deceive me. I don't want everything to turn upside down," I explain. I wait for her to absorb what I have just professed. When she does, I decide to add something more pleasant for her to hear. "But you should always know I'm glad I don't feel alone anymore."

"Okay, Katniss." We keep walking in silence for what seems like an eternity to me.

"Peeta. Say something." Prim startles both him and me by breaking it.

"I don't know what to say," he tells us after a long pause. It is Prim's turn to be surprised. Peeta always knows what to say. _I_ am not the one who isn't good with words and I managed to _talk_.

"You…you mean…" she starts, but his laugh cuts her sentence off. He turns to look at me with a smile.

"In this case…if I have to say something-I'm also glad you don't feel alone anymore." His voice turns to a whisper as he pronounces the last word. A whisper that seems like a promise to me.

I eventually pack up the courage and return the smile.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Okay…nothing important happened. But there was some Peeta/Katniss interaction, right?**

**I think the next chapter will be one of my favorites (and I don't have a favorite in this story—not yet). Ever heard of Valentine's day? Maybe I can please the people who are into fluff, but don't worry. I won't overdo it. After all, everything I do has a reason (sometimes an ulterior motive) behind it.**

**I apologize in advance for a late update. I need to write the one-shot I've been planning for quite a while without any interruptions (I have a deadline) so…see you next chapter I guess.**

**I would really appreciate it, if you reviewed. Every reviewer gets a kiss. My 100th reviewer gets two kisses. And a shout-out in chapter eleven.**


	11. Chapter XI: February

**A/N: Remember what I told you about the 14th of February in the last chapter? Well, don't expect anything too sappy, but I assure you that you **_**will **_**get your fluff. Eventually…It doesn't really matter in which chapter, right?**

**Ha, this time I'm going to reply to everyone just because we reached 100 reviews. 24 comments for last chapter! You're amazing!**

**Thanks to "**_**SWPeetaxKatnissAvatarTLA"**_**for being me 100threviewer! Two kisses for you, just like I promised ;)**

* * *

><p><strong>Title of the fanfic: <strong>House of chaos

**Summary:**[AU/New characters].What if Peeta and Katniss never were tributes in the Games? What if President Snow was dead? What if two people with a past suddenly decided to reunite? Would the members of the new family coexist or would they live in a house of chaos?

**Chapter 11:**(XI)

**Genre:** Romance/ Family

**Rated:**T (13+) [I wouldn't really rate this chapter K] for violence, language, and possible future references to adult themes.

**Disclaimer:**I only own the plot and the new names of the characters. Everything else belongs to Suzanne Collins.

**Special thanks to (for reviewing):**_**TheAfterShock**_**(Cat**_**and**_**Red)**[Remember that Cato is in this story, okay?;)], _**SWPeetaxKatnissAvatarTLA**_[thanks again], _**Leather jacket addict**_[this is not exactly super soon, but I can try to make it as soon as possible for chapter twelve], _**LiveLaughLovekataang**_[aww, that's so nice to hear!],_**twilightfanatic18**_[thank you.:)], _**lolyy**_[what is the point in writing this story, if Katniss and Peeta never get the chance to be together? Stay tuned for the big change;)],_**mrspatrickdempsey**_[I did enjoy the movie and the Valentine's Day is…_now_]_**, Lgwater27**_[too bad indeed, but Katniss wouldn't follow tradition anyway :P], _**theatergurl**_[here's more], _**anon**_[If you had an account, I would have asked you what "O" means…could you tell me in case it's important? :S], _**yeeeitscarmen**_ [thank you!], _**SparksFly23**_ [This chapter is only the beginning of what I have in store…], _**marisa123**_[Katniss and Peeta getting closer…how much closer would you like them to get? :D], _**PeetaLuver1**_[I hope you had fun at that party!], _**iam97**_ [the rose is not a coincidence. You know how President Snow has that obsession over roses…Well, I kinda wanted to include Katniss's repulsion for roses in this story, too—just in a whole different way and for a whole different reason. But I've changed so many things already…By the way, I'm glad I made you smile!],_**KMloveya**_[No problem for the Cato scene. He's not in this chapter, but you'll see him again in the twelfth one.], _**Betabr**_[Oh, you know what I have to say about that kiss. I told you in the PM ;))], _**loversofdistrict12**_[thanks for taking the time to read _and_ review], _**Peeniss4eva**_ [here comes your fluff], _**Ihaveahunger**_ [yeah, you'll probably take what you need…;)],_**JosieHawthorne**_ [I honestly appreciate it when Gale/Katniss fans read my stories until this far. It means that I don't bore them to death…Besides, I always need advice when it comes to portraying Gale. I want to make him neither too soft nor too aggressive.], _**AshesHunger**_[chapter 11 is released…I guess…], _**A Mundane**_[*sigh* Fluff…everyone seems to want fluff…Okay…] and _**lbecker1982**_[you reviewed yesterday so I guess this is soon for you:)].

xxx

I carefully climb the stairs so that the hot contents of the mug I'm holding won't spill all over me. I take one step after another and keep my eyes on my feet until I'm in front of the half-open door of Prim and I's bedroom. I push it with my shoulder and watch it as it swings completely open.

"Katniss?" Prim calls from her bed. I smile before I step inside and walk towards her nightstand in order to place the cup there.

"I made you some tea," I tell her. She offers me a lazy grin.

"You didn't have to, you know," she replies, but squirms on the mattress, probably trying to sit up. I rush to help her with her pillows and hand her the tea.

"Here," I murmur. "I did have to. It might make you feel better."

"Thanks," she murmurs. "What's Peeta doing?" she asks. I shrug.

"I don't know. I guess he's in his room—I haven't seen him since last night. I took breakfast with mom today."

"Oh," she mouths. Then, she speaks. "Could you call him for me, please? I need to tell him something," she says in a thoughtful expression. I stare at her for a second before I decide that I have to appear eager.

"Sure," I finally agree and turn on my heel to leave. "Do you need anything else?" Once I receive the shake of her head, I walk out of the room without bothering to close the door behind me.

"Peeta!" I call, but keep getting closer to his bedroom anyway. By the time I'm there, the door is already open. He gives me a questioning look. I don't call him very often when we're in the house. It's always somebody else—just not me.

"Is anything wrong?" he asks and takes a step closer in alarm.

"I have no idea. Prim wants you in our room, though."

"Alright. Wait a minute," he says and disappears in his room, before reemerging in a matter of seconds to walk away from where I'm standing. I eventually realize there's nothing more interesting than what my sister has to say right now. Thus I follow him.

I frown, wondering whether Prim wants me in the room, too. Then I remember _I_ am the one who will take care of her today, not him.

I hear her mutter soft words to him in the tone I know so well. The tone that means she's asking for something. It is long before I hear also Peeta's voice. I can't know whether he agrees or not, so I just get in the room.

"Katniss," Prim acknowledges me. "I was just telling Peeta that you could go for a walk, since none of you has any other plans for the morning." It takes me a minute to absorb everything.

"No," I answer in the end.

"Why not? Don't worry, I asked him," she assures me as if Peeta isn't in the same room as us.

"Prim, no. I can't leave you on your own. I'm not going anywhere." She opens her mouth to protest. "Mom's at work," I remind her before she has the chance to interrupt me.

"Is this the only reason why you won't go? Mom's absence from the house?" I don't reply. "Fine, then, I'll talk to her," she adds and pushes the covers away to get up.

"Prim!" I scold and get in front of her so that she won't go. I bring my palm to her forehead and make a face. "You're burning. I'm not going anywhere," I repeat, even though she's not burning at all.

"Katniss, I have fever, I'm not disabled!" she says and walks from around me to leave the room. I let out a long sigh and face the direction she headed for.

"Katniss…" The sound of my name makes me turn around to face Peeta. I had completely neglected his presence. He rewards me with a shy smile and starts fidgeting. I shoot him a bewildered look. "You know…if…if your mom came here…I would like to…I would like to go for a walk." I don't remember seeing him so nervous before. I don't understand why he has to ask for my permission to go out.

"So…what's holding you?" I wonder out loud.

"No, I don't mean—I meant I would like to go for a walk with _you_. Just like we do with Prim after school," he explains. "Well, Prim won't be with us this time, but…"

"Peeta, no. I don't want to leave her alone."

"I didn't tell you to leave her alone. That would be in case Mireille came back from—"

"—It's all done," Prim cuts him off with a proud, yet weak smile.

"What's all done?" I ask after folding my arms over my chest.

"Nothing special. I just called mom. She says she'll be here as soon as possible. No patient has asked her to stay. If something gets wrong, she will be informed. I think…"

"You think," I repeat and huff in exasperation. "You don't kn—"

"—Oh, Katniss! You really are unbelievable! I'm only doing this for you! Peeta, tell her!" I watch her with wide eyes and then move my gaze to him. His lips press together to form a thin line.

"I can tell her nothing more than I already have. It's her choice, after all," he says to Prim but never takes his eyes off me. I blink. Once. Twice.

"Oh, fine. Whatever you say. But we'll be back before it's time for lunch." Peeta's whole face lights up at my words.

"Really? Thank y-you…" His voice catches in his throat once he reaches the end of his sentence. The chocking sound he makes results in me rolling my eyes. Prim gives us both a generous smile and hops into bed one more time, pulling the covers to her chin. I kneel by her side and place a kiss on her slightly hot forehead.

"Wait until mom comes. Drink your tea and don't hesitate to ask whatever you need from her, okay?"

"Katniss, I'm not a baby!" she complains.

"Okay?" I insist with a stern look. She can do nothing but sigh in defeat.

"Okay," she breathes. I take several steps back and prepare myself to leave the room before she speaks again.

"Hey, Katniss?" My eyebrows arch up as if questioning her while I turn around to face her. "I love you."

"And I love you, little duck." I grab Peeta from his sleeve. "Come on," I urge. He starts talking only when we're out of the room.

"Do you want to go to town? Or the meadow? Uh…not that there's anything in the meadow…just grass, flowers and weeds." I turn to shoot him a sharp glance. "Or…"

"Peeta." His bright blue eyes glow in trepidation. I frown when I realize that in reality it's not fear, but anxiety. Why would he be anxious?

"Take your block with you," I instruct.

"My block? Why would I need my block?" I wave my hand in front of him to dismiss any more questions.

"Well, it was just a suggestion," I reply with a shrug as if this is the most common thing I could have come up with. "I know where you grew up…and I know _how_you grew up. But you know nothing about me, even though I'd like you to," I explain.

Soon enough, I feel the heat creep up my face. I wish Peeta wouldn't choose to react to the sight of my pink-colored cheeks. And he doesn't.

"I just thought I'd show you around…" I add, although I have absolutely no idea what to say next.

"You want to take me to the Seam?" The disbelief in his voice makes me flinch, though, when I realize there is also some hope, I am encouraged to keep talking.

"Yeah, I kinda…do…I mean if you also want to…"

"Are you kidding me? Of course I want to! I haven't been there before," he admits. I can't even recall why I was unsure in the first place. I give his arm a light punch, hoping he'll get my message and start getting ready.

"I'm glad you find it a good idea."

"A great idea actually." He looks toward the other direction, then back to me. "I'll go fetch my block. See if you need anything else before we go." I shake my head in response.

"Believe me…everything I need is there," I tell him.

xxx

"And this is the Hob."

"That's the Hob? I've heard so many things about it…It's not so scary," he replies. I give him a wry smile full of amusement.

"You really imagined it to be scary?" He shakes his head.

"No, but many kids did. I only believed the forest was scary. Terrifying actually. Dark, remote and dangerous," he lets me know. I feel the need to defend my woods before he has the time to express his true opinion about the place now.

"It's not like that. At all. It's beautiful."

"Yes, I know it is," he says in a tone that clearly suggests he prefers us being civil to each other. I simply ignore the fact that I've overreacted. _Again_.

"Do you want to get in?" I ask, hoping for a positive answer.

"Sure." Once he gives it to me, I happily oblige.

"When I was little and came here with my father, I was scared of all those people. I wasn't used to being surrounded by such a huge group, not really. Though, when I knew I couldn't do otherwise…and met Greasy Sae…I instantly changed my mind. I liked her from the moment she first talked to me. She said she liked my hair." I smile at the memory.

"Tell me someone who doesn't love your hair," he says.

"Well…I never thought about it. There's nothing _that_ special about my hair anyway. Come on now, let's get to Sae's counter," I eventually tell him in order to change the topic. He nods, but doesn't hesitate to follow me like I did every time I walked to his—now our—neighborhood.

"Good morning, Sae," I greet the old woman with a smile. She lifts her gaze to meet mine with her all too familiar smile as well. After all these years she has learned to recognize my voice before she even looks at me.

"Good morning, my child. What did you bring me today?" she asks willingly. My face falls.

"Oh, I didn't come to trade. I don't have anything, even if this was my intention from the beginning," I tell her in an apologetic tone. She gives me the look that means I will have to explain the purpose of my visit to her.

My fingers move almost immediately behind my back, where it meets Peeta's hand halfway. I'm surprised he thought the same thing as me, though, I have to admit the feeling I get is not exactly unpleasant. I gently drag him forward and tighten my grip.

"That's Peeta. I wanted to show him around and…I thought your soup would be a really nice start." She silently agrees by making a curt movement with her head and moves away from us to fulfill my request.

Peeta's shoulder brushes against mine. "Soup?"

"Yeah, it's really good. You'll see what I mean," I promise knowingly.

Sae appears with two bowls in less than a minute. She hands them to us and I gladly receive them. I turn to look at Peeta who has this weird look on his face. I can feel his gaze melt into mine as he waits for approval. Instead of giving it to him, I sink my spoon in my bowl and, then, bring it to my lips to taste the contents. I watch him with the corner of my eye as he follows my example.

"It's good," he confesses after a while. "It's fantastic," he adds with more enthusiasm in his voice the next time.

"Why, thank you, boy." I grin at him and decide to finally dig in without any interruptions.

When we're both finished, I remember that I have absolutely nothing with me to reward Greasy Sae for the food.

"I'll go tomorrow," I say all of sudden. "In the woods."

Peeta soon realizes what I mean to say, buries his hand in his pocket and searches for something—anything—to give her. He knows there's no way I'm leaving the Hob without making sure she has something in return in the near future. At first, I wouldn't take a single thing from him without paying him back, even if we were in the house.

He eventually manages to get out a couple of coins and push them in front of her.

"I'm sorry. That's all I have for now," he professes guiltily. She takes the money, counts them and then thrusts them back into his open palm.

"Your company was enough," she says with a slight shake of her head. The feeling of satisfaction fills me as soon as I realize this interaction is because of me. Peeta insists on her having the money, while Sae appears half-amused, half-content with the way he keeps paying her work compliments.

"Thank you, Sae, but we really can't leave otherwise. And I promise to get you some fresh meat tomorrow morning," I say. She eyes Peeta cautiously.

"You have a good heart," she finally tells him. I'm tempted to roll my eyes at her statement and I would, if I didn't want to hear what she has to say next.

"Thanks," he answers with a genuine smile on his lips.

"If our Katniss trusts you enough to do the transactions for her, then there is no wonder, dear." Once again, I blush. Not only because it's true, but also because she knows me so well.

"I'm glad to hear it." He drops the coins in my palm, making it clear he believes I can handle the whole issue better than him.

"You can go, Peeta. I'll be there in a minute."

"There? Where?"

"Oh, I don't know. Take another walk around," I suggest. He nods and walks away from me.

"Your brother?" Sae guesses as soon as he's out of earshot.

"Yes," I reply in a small voice. I hate it when people call him that, even though I know I shouldn't.

"Such an honest lad," she mutters under her breath, though, loud enough for me to hear it. I clench my fist around the money. Her facial expression betrays she's not finished yet. "But," she mumbles, just like I expected.

"But?" I prompt.

"Too handsome." Those two words make me scared of moving my hand forward. My fingers tremble and the coins fall in my pocket.

Maybe she knows me _too_ well, after all.

xxx

"It's going to rain," he tells me as he looks at the cloudy sky. There are several shades of gray and for a brief moment I wonder whether he would be able to draw the view with his capable hands.

"Yeah, but not yet," I reply and keep walking forward.

"It's really nice, even without the snow. The lake looks better, too," he says. My eyes fall on the small waves on the surface of the deep blue water.

"It wasn't a lake when you saw it. It was ice," I remind him. I wait for some seconds before continuing. "You know…if the weather was better, I would teach you to swim."

"You would teach me to swim?" he repeats incredulously. "Really?"

"Yes."

"No. There's no way I would get in there." He points a finger at the lake. I chuckle.

"Don't be so sure, Peeta."

"Okay, this could happen. But I'd have to teach you how to play the _piano_ first." My lips curl upwards to form a smirk.

"Don't worry about this one. You can teach me how to play the piano whenever you want. Hell, do it this evening! Just…never say never. You might be forced to surrender some time in the future."

"So you're saying we might come here again?" he asks hopefully.

"We could come here tomorrow. I have to get something for Sae—by the way, I never gave you your money back," I say and hand him what I find in my pocket. He examines it for a while before placing them back in his own pocket.

"She managed to convince you, huh?"

"Sort of," I rush to respond, hoping he won't read my uneasiness. Even if he does, he chooses to neglect it.

"Well, I can't come tomorrow. It's my turn to work at the bakery. I really want to help dad. Though, Darryl's coming back and it won't be that necessary." My eyes grow wide.

"Darryl's coming back? What do you mean?"

"Oh, no, nothing happened with Ingrid. He just couldn't work at the tailor's anymore. It was totally unlike him."

"Alright. We're here," I announce. "You can talk to me about it later." He follows me as I approach the door of the small hut I always visited with my father. I turn the knob and push it open. I know it will need lots of work before I even step inside.

The typical sound of Peeta's footsteps against the wooden floor rings in my ears and gives me the feeling of peacefulness. I smile and suddenly appear even more eager to clean this mess in front of me.

"There's so much dust," I declare out loud and turn around to face him.

"Do you plan on cleaning the place up?" he asks curiously.

"Yeah, I think that's a good idea. I haven't been here in ages and it's…nice."

"I could help you, then." I want to tell him that he really doesn't need to, but I'm just too selfish. I know he wants to help—his assistance won't hurt me. Quite the opposite actually.

"You could," I agree in the end. "How about I get the duster? There's a small table and three chairs. That will be enough for today."

"Go ahead. I truly have no problem."

Only when the table is finished, do I realize that I'm not exactly in the mood to clean the whole house. It might be small, but it hasn't been taken care of in so long that I don't believe Peeta would appreciate us doing this instead of something more interesting. I'm quicker than him and have two chairs ready before he even has the time to clean the one he wanted to. I frown. He's not slow, he's just way too meticulous than I am.

"The truth is…that I envy Prim's tea. I would gladly drink some, but we've run out of it. Just like sugar."

"I don't see why there is a problem with the lack of sugar," he answers with a knowing grin.

"Funny, huh? You'd end up drinking not only your tea, but also mine. I can't take it without sugar and you know it."

"I do?" he asks, feigning obliviousness. "Where are you going?" he wants to know once he notices I'm walking towards the outlet.

"Oh, I think I'll go to swim." His expression turns from amused to shocked in a matter of seconds. "I'm only joking, Peeta. I can't believe you bought it."

"Why wouldn't I? By the way, would you like to stay in?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Okay. Do you mind me going out for a while? You said I could bring my sketch block with me and I doubt you'd let me draw _you_."

"Absolutely not." He nods as if to confirm this is not going to happen.

"I see. My point is that I have to find _something_ to draw. I'm in the woods. Why not exploit the fact?" It takes me some seconds to process everything he's said and when I finally do, I smile at him. This is the best thing I can come up with at the moment.

I walk to the table with slow and careful steps, making this way my loneliness insignificant and bearable. After I pull a chair and sit on it, I support the weight of my head on my elbow by placing my chin on my palm. There are so many things Gale and I did in the woods, but I don't really feel like doing them with Peeta. It feels wrong, just like the kiss with Gale. I'm perfectly aware of the fact that I cannot relate those two or the conversations I have with each one of them, though, I can think of nothing more intriguing than this.

Peeta comes in the house by the time I decide I could just watch him draw. There are some times when I enjoy following his fingers as they dance on the paper, creating different patterns or landscapes.

It looks like he has other plans.

He turns the chair around while I'm still sitting on it so that I will be facing him. I let out a sound of surprise before I can control it.

"I'm glad you don't feel uncomfortable you're here, with me instead of…somebody else…on a day like that. And I'm glad you don't even know what I'm talking about." I cross my arms in front of my chest and raise an eyebrow, questioning him. I don't like it when he confuses me so much. "It makes you more like…yourself. Katniss."

"I thought being _'Katniss Everdeen'_ was a bad thing?" He smile only gets wider. He lowers himself to come to my level and holds something yellow in between us.

"Never for me," he says. This only manages to double my puzzlement. I realize I can't really focus on what he's saying. Thus my eyes narrow at the object he has in his hands.

No, not an object. A flower. He can't remember…right?

"I always thought it was a weed, you know. I considered it a flower only after I saw you that day after the incident with the bread. You might not be able to recall it right now…but I managed to catch your eye."

"I remember, Peeta. You saved my family's life. I—I wanted to thank you, but I didn't find the chance."

"Then, you saw a yellow weed. Not a weed, a flower."

"A dandelion," I continue for him. He quickly nods before he keeps talking.

"You bent down and…" he trails off.

"…picked it up," I finish.

"And I wanted to talk to you. But this was enough for me. It was…so much…I don't only remember that day, Katniss. I remember every day before and every day after that. I remember the first day of school. You had on a red plaid dress and your hair was in two braids instead of one. When the teacher asked for someone to sing the Valley Song…you were the only one who knew it. Or the only one who had the guts to sing it, I don't know." He has started talking unbelievably quickly and I suddenly find it difficult to breathe.

"Peeta," I whisper just because I want to. Just because it feels right.

"When you sang…I swear every single bird outside the window stopped to listen." I laugh. "No, it's true. Absolutely true. Don't you believe me?"

"That's the point. But even if the birds sang outside the window, you wouldn't be able to hear them." He lets out a dramatic sigh.

"This is just great, Katniss. I'm pouring my heart out and all you can think of doing is laugh at me," he says sarcastically.

"No, I'm just…" he raises both eyebrows. "Okay, maybe I am. But I don't understand why you're telling me this now."

"Because I saw this." He shows me the dandelion. "And I remembered." I part my lips to protest, but his hand stops me. It follows a path from my cheek to my forehead, sending shivers down my spine. His touch stirs something inside me, making me feel more alive than ever. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and lets his brows furrow as he tries to tangle the yellow flower in my braid.

"How did you find it? It's still February, you don't see dandelions very often in the winter." His gaze travels from my hair to my face for a second, before he concentrates on his work again.

"It's quite hot outside, even though it's drizzling," he replies.

"It's drizzling? And you didn't say anything before?" I almost jump from the chair, but he keeps me in place.

"What's wrong with this? We can stay until it stops. I'm positive it will stop in less than half an hour."

"No, you don't understand! We can't stay here! I have to go to Prim!" He takes my shoulders in his hands and shakes me.

"Katniss, Prim is with your mother."

"I know! I know, but she wasn't there with her back then! She won't understand, Peeta!"

"She won't understand what?" All of sudden, silence feels the room. The only sound is our breathing which is soon combined with the soft drops of rain. "She won't understand what, Katniss?"

"Don't tell me I'm overreacting because you know nothing about her. You know nothing about the life we had before you and your family appeared in our lives," I snarl.

"I wouldn't say anything like that. You're exaggerating."

"No, I'm not! I'm not exaggerating—I just want to go home." It is unbelievable how fast not only the volume but also the tone of my voice can change. Peeta's face immediately softens.

"Then, let's go home, Katniss," he suggests weakly. The way he says it makes it obvious he wasn't expecting me to kill the mood so quickly.

I nod in agreement and extend my hand, hoping this will make up for my aggressiveness. His eyes linger on it for a little while, but he takes it before I have the chance to regret it. The squeeze he gives me encourages me to drag him out of the house. He closes the door behind us, before we break into a run.

I have to remind myself that running less and less close to me is not his choice, in fear that I'll smash his fingers. I grip them hard, to the point of pain, anyway.

I constantly hear him yell at me to slow down, but he won't dare to release my hand, either. I cling to that fact and drag him with me, even when we've crawled under the fence.

The rain gets heavier and heavier and by the time we're home, we're both soaked to the bone.

I get out my keys, but my hands are shaking so much that I can't even use them right. Peeta takes the keys from me, pushes me gently aside and opens the door with slow but steady movements.

I walk as fast as I can towards the staircase without bothering to take my shoes off, while Peeta runs right after me. He keeps telling me to calm down and I attempt to block his words, but he repeats them over and over, making it difficult for me to focus on my sister's issue.

"Katniss, she's okay," my mom assures me. I don't believe her for a second. "Don't get in, she's sleeping," she hisses and comes in front of me to prevent me from entering my bedroom.

"Let go of me," I scream and try to wiggle out of her grasp. Peeta's soon there to help her and I can't help but feel the hatred as it worms its sickening way to my heart. It feels like betrayal.

When my mother decides that me regaining my sanity is not in her power anymore, Peeta's face is the only one I can see in front of me. He stops me from trashing and holds both of my wrists tightly to his chest, forcing me to look into his eyes.

Suddenly, realization of what I'm doing hits me like a ton of bricks as the only thing I can hear is his voice. And just like that every single trace of hatred is gone.

"Katniss, look at me. She's okay. You're both okay. Nothing bad can happen to her as long as she's in this house. This is my house, too, remember?" I nod frantically. "Good. This means I can promise you she'll be okay." I nod again. He releases my hands and wraps a firm arm around my back, holding me close to him. I feel his flushed but wet cheek against my own skin as we share the same, unsteady heartbeat. I eventually let myself melt into his embrace and bury my face in his shirt. I want to disappear from the world and for a moment he just allows me to be nothing, while he's trying his best to be everything I need.

His hand draws soft circles on my back, making me want to close my eyes for as long as he will let me. I just know I won't be the one to break apart.

My mother's uncomfortable cough from behind us makes Peeta's muscles tense, but I'm not ready to let go. Not yet. He senses this and lets me pull at his shirt until he's completely trapped with me.

"You're both drenched. You should have a shower before lunch," my mom advises. I know that although Peeta has managed to gain my trust way too easily in contrast to her, I can't rub it in her face. No matter what she did in the past, she's still my mother. She still deserves a place in my life, especially after her numerous efforts to have the old Katniss—the one who existed before my father died—back. But now there's only Prim's Katniss when something is wrong or Peeta and Tyler's Katniss when a smile is to be found on my lips.

For the time being I can only obey. I know Peeta will give me this sad, compassionate look, if I decide to object and I will have no choice but to think of the witch. The former Mrs Mellark was and still is horrific in my mind. There are so many times I see Peeta's eyes reveal memories of his own past that it hurts.

Is he also hurting now that he sees me like this? Desperate and helpless for an unknown to him reason.

"Maybe we should," he whispers in my ear. Only when I nod in confirmation, does he pull away from me. When I turn to look at my mother, she has an unreadable expression on her face. Her piercing blue eyes bore into mine and all I want is for her to leave. I want to get it all out, but I can't. Not as long as she's standing in front of me.

She seems to understand my wish and she respects it without a second word. She sighs and turns around to start descending the stairs. I follow her figure until she's out of eyesight and look back at Peeta.

"I am probably exaggerating, after all." I expect him to agree with me, but he doesn't. He only stares at me, knowing that I'm not finished. I take a deep breath before making myself clear.

"You know…it was raining. The day after my dad was lost in the mine explosion. There was thunder and lightning and Prim was just so little…She was scared—I was the only one who could stay by her side properly. She didn't need a ghost, not even my mother's ghost to assure her everything was going to be okay. And I didn't lie to her because _nothing_ was going to be okay, but I at least knew I could protect her. I always feel like she still needs me, no matter what she keeps saying." I keep my eyes on the floor as the next sentence is out of my mouth. "In reality, I need her more than she needs me."

"Katniss, that's not always true."

"But it is, Peeta. If Prim was gone…if she ever left me with my mother…I wouldn't…I wouldn't make it…"

"Don't talk like that. You would be okay. You're a survivor." The way he pronounces the last words makes me realize he might be trying to persuade himself instead of me. Besides, I never needed to hear it.

"I'm a survivor because of her. This is why I kept fighting for my life. If I had been gone, she would have been gone, too. I could ever afford to…" I sigh. "I sound so pathetic. There's nothing wrong with her being sick. She has been sick thousands of times before. She'll be okay."

"She'll be okay," he repeats as if he isn't sure I've gotten it yet.

xxx

"Tyler," I call. He halts every movement and turns around to face me with a grin. "Going out again?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Aren't you?"

"Why would I be going out?" Mirth fills his eyes.

"And you're absolutely sure today will be no exception for you? No special occasion?" he asks in amusement.

"No special occasion," I repeat. "Your brother's also out. But I didn't really get the chance to ask him," I lie. I know I would ever ask Peeta where he was going. Now that I'm thinking of it, I didn't ask Tyler, either. I only wanted to know whether he was going out.

"I might have to ask him about it later," he tells me with a smirk I can't quite place. "Well, tomorrow. I'm positive I'll be home extremely late tonight."

"So, there is a special occasion for you," I state in a matter-of-fact tone. Though, I didn't have to. He has made it quite apparent.

I soon receive an incredulous look. "You're joking, aren't you?" I stare blankly at him. "Aren't you?" he says again.

"No," I declare. He shakes his head and begins to walk away once more. "Tyler!" I whine.

"What is it?" he wonders, but doesn't turn around to face me.

"Aren't you going to tell me what you meant before? Tyler!" He waves his hand before he opens the door. When he's about to exit, he shoots me a cautious glance.

"You can go to my room. Check the calendar." Then, he takes his umbrella from the hanger and slams the door shut.

I don't waste any more time. I run to the stairs and climb them hastily. What could be so unique about today? It's Saturday, I know it is. But he didn't behave this way on Saturdays before.

I reach Tyler's room. I hesitate for a minute before pushing the door wide open. I walk in and head for the wall he keeps his calendar on. When I spot it, I notice there is a big red circle around a date. I narrow my eyes at the paper and move closer.

I gasp before I have the time to register it.

It is the fourteenth of February. Valentine's Day.

I look out of the blurry window and watch Tyler as he follows the path Peeta must have followed earlier. The rain keeps coming down in sheets. My heart sinks.

xxx

My eyes fly open once the sound of the door closing echoes in the hallway. I don't need to see the person to recognize them. I already know it's _him_.

I sink deeper in the couch and tighten my grip on the remote control. The sound of his footsteps becomes louder and louder, confirming this way my guess.

"Katniss?" he says in a questioning tone. He obviously didn't expect me to be here. I grit my teeth together and try my best to focus on the television in front of me. When he has his back turned against me, though, I can't help stealing a glance at him. He's soaked again, maybe more than he was this morning.

He walks to the fireplace and sits on the marble to get rid of his boots and jacket.

"Great," he mumbles and shakes them, sending drops of water all over the carpet. He flinches and then turns to look at me.

"It's not that cold outside, but I _am_ a little cold. Who lit the fire?" he asks. Instead of answering him, I glare at that man in the television. I think he's called Plutarch. I hate him. I hate everyone and everything around me at the moment. Maybe being Katniss Everdeen is an enormous flaw, after all.

Peeta keeps talking. "Why are you up so late? It's…" He takes a look at the clock. "…half past twelve," he adds after some seconds. As if I didn't know.

"You couldn't sleep?" he makes a guess, but doesn't wait for my answer and leaves the room. The fact irritates me even more.

After a while I press the red button on the remote control and the ridiculous man from the TV instantly vanishes. I stare at the black screen before I hear Peeta's footsteps for a second time.

He rubs his head with a white towel to dry his hair and returns to the fireplace to warm himself up. He pauses for a moment and gives me a questioning look.

"What's wrong, Katniss?" he asks. I can feel the blood boil in my veins with each and every single question he asks, but I still refuse to speak.

"Did anything happen?" I don't even bother to shake my head. "Why aren't you talking to me?" I punch the first pillow I come across and stand on my feet to leave. I know I stayed to confront him, even though I had no reason to do so. Now he's here I can't seem to find the courage to face him.

"You really are a selfish bastard, aren't you?" I mutter darkly under my breath. I regret the words from the very moment they're out. I remember Effie Trinket—the escort of District Twelve's tributes for the Hunger Games—and realize the odds are not in my favor today. He heard me.

"What did you say?" he approaches me before I have the time to take another step.

"Nothing," I retort.

"Selfish bastard isn't nothing. You must have a reason to say it."

"Well, I don't," I grunt and glare at him. His eyes are also surprisingly dark.

"You don't have a reason." I nod my head stubbornly. "But you do have a reason to ignore me. And you do have a reason not to explain your attitude to me." I want to tell him to get lost, though, other words come out.

"You said you'd teach me how to play the piano," I remind him in a complaining tone.

"What? I never said that."

"You did. When we were in the woods. You said this evening." I need to stop talking already. I know that if I keep babbling, he'll know things I will regret later.

"I thought it was a joke, Katniss. How was I supposed to know you were serious? I might have stayed in, had you said something beforehand."

"Yeah, of course. You'd stay in instead of going out with…"

"You know, there are lots of times I prefer your company to Trevor's. I would have stayed."

"I don't believe you," I reply.

"You don't believe what exactly? I _would_ stay. I would stay for you," he whispers.

"Well, I don't believe you," I repeat. His eyes widen. He presses his fingers against my lips.

"We're not alone in the house. Your sister and everyone else is sleeping. Be quiet," he says. I push his hand away.

"Don't tell me to be quiet," I growl.

I storm out of the room and wait until I'm out of his sight. I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding and lean against the wall, before I force my eyes shut.

This is one of the times I wish I had the right to stop school and live in another District.

I stay like this for several moments and make countless efforts to understand what has just happened. It doesn't work. Peeta's voice is heard without me having the chance to sense his presence beside me.

"You know what, Katniss?" I let him finish what he has to say without interruptions. "I would stay. And I would do anything to make you believe me. I would do anything to make you believe I was with Trevor. I would do anything to make you believe I'd stay with you." Even my self control has limits. And he's starting to cross them. "I would do anything to—"

"—Peeta, stop! I don't care about what you have to say, alright?"

"You're lying." I shake my head. "You're lying, Katniss."

"No, I'm not. I don't give a damn about…" I let out a shaky breath and leave my sentence unfinished. How can I wish for my excuses to sound plausible if I don't believe them myself?

"Don't you want to believe me?" he asks.

"No. I don't want to."

"But I do want you to believe me," he insists.

"I don't care." I can feel his eyes on me, even though I can't see him very clearly in the darkness. "I don't care," I whimper, but he doesn't take a single step away from me. I'm not used to that persistent side of Peeta. He probably has his own limits, too.

Suddenly, he does the last thing I'd ever expect him to do.

In a matter of seconds his lips crush into mine just like that, making every sort of emotion surface without a single warning. Shock and fear is soon combined with indescribable excitement. A soon as I close my eyes, I can feel my insides burn as an extremely overwhelming fire starts in the pit of my stomach.

Shiny images of what I imagined Peeta's lips to be like against my own flash through my mind. The kiss is neither warm and gentle nor slow. It starts with his determination and demand for understanding on my part, but soon turns into something unexplainable.

The urgency during this exchange between Peeta and I makes me angry to the point of wrapping one of my arms around his neck. I take the golden locks at the nape of his neck in my fist and let my other hand bury into his wet, messy hair.

I moan in frustration and bite his bottom lip, forcing him to let out an unexpected gasp which makes his surprise evident. Instead of pulling away, though, he puts even more pressure against my mouth, resulting in my body colliding with the wall with a soft 'thump'.

The undeniably strong taste of smoky rain and _Peeta_ on his lips makes me feel not only dizzy, but also hungry for more. I could swear I feel my hipbones burn when his hands come to rest on either side of my torso and I instinctively bring him closer, knowing that everything he does only fuels my undisclosed desires instead of fulfilling them.

For a moment I just wish this would last forever. But it's nothing more than just a brief moment that doesn't last any longer. Realization of what we're doing dawns on me and I push him away with all the force I can muster.

He stumbles backwards and almost falls against the wall which is across from the one I'm leaning to. I place both of my palms on it to hold myself together and keep my eyes on the floor in disbelief as I attempt to regain the normalcy in my breathing.

My eyes move to his wide ones for a nanosecond, before I rush to climb the stairs two at a time without getting to hear what he has to say. I don't need to. He knows exactly what he did and I know exactly how I reacted.

The phrase _"I just kissed my brother"_ plays over and over in my head.

It feels wrong.

It feels right.

I don't know what it means anymore.

Once the door of my bedroom is shut, I can seem to think of only one thing; _I believe him._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Alright. Now I really, really need you to tell me how I did. I know it wasn't sweet (if you imagined it to be sweet), but it wouldn't get out right otherwise. Katniss would never find a reason to kiss Peeta, if she wasn't carried away by her feelings. After reading the Hunger Games trilogy, you can all admit the thing she does the most is**_**think**_**(and this is one of the reasons why I love her of course). Thinking too much is not always beneficial.**

**Just tell me whether it was okay to have them make the big move now instead of later. Please? I would love you for an eternity! Besides…if I get some feedback, I might be able to update one more time in the week.;)**

**I'll see you again some day in the week or after it (it truly depends upon you)!**


	12. Chapter XII: February

**A/N: Wow…I have to admit that I totally wasn't expecting so much love in so little time. The response is overwhelming! I would like to thank not only those who have been following this story for quite a while (and reviewing it), but also those who commented for the first time. You're all fantastic.**

**The replies to some of the reviews below are replies to requests.**

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><p><strong>Title of the fanfic:<strong>House of chaos

**Summary:**[AU/New characters].What if Peeta and Katniss never were tributes in the Games? What if President Snow was dead? What if two people with a past suddenly decided to reunite? Would the members of the new family coexist or would they live in a house of chaos?

**Chapter 12:**(XII)

**Genre:** Romance/ Family

**Rated:**T (13+) for violence, language, and possible future references to adult themes.

**Disclaimer:**I only own the plot and the new names of the characters. Everything else belongs to Suzanne Collins.

**Special thanks to (for reviewing):**_**LiveandBreathetheWords, KMloveya, LiveLaughLovekataang, teampeeta4ever**_[I know you didn't ask for anything, but your review made me laugh so hard…lip action, haha xD], _**TaqiWaqi, PeetaLuver1, lbecker1982, loversofdistrict12**_[don't worry, after this chapter I will speed everything up—just have in mind I can't exactly make them behave like nothing happened between them-at least not so fast], _**lolyy, Jen, Sunny, Lgwater27**_[awkwardness to come indeed. And there's more in store;)], _**HungerGames1020, theatergurl, DHPKDreamer, SWPeetaxKatnissAvatarTLA, Mocking Verse, langkuoch, brittany, twilightfanatic18, KEandPM, hunger games fan21, sarah, cdtspecialk, KHO, iam97, sweetvolcano, Betabr**_I'm sorry. I can't change the rating from "T" to "M" now. But if the "M" rated story I have in mind doesn't 'win' [meaning that if people prefer the "T" rated story], I'll write a one-shot just for you;))]and_**sick-of-dreams.**_

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><p>My eyes flutter as I lazily spread the butter over the slice of bread. I've been trying to blink my need for sleep away from the moment I left the comfort of my bed, though, I feel my eyelids droop more and more as the minutes pass unbelievably slow.<p>

"Bad night, huh?" Tyler asks sympathetically from the seat across from mine. I exhale deeply and nod.

"You can say that again," I mutter, recalling at the same time the events of last night. Peeta's lips against mine, his hands on my hips, heat radiating from every single inch of his body.

I give my head a violent shake. I can't think like that. Not now.

"What is it, sis?"

"Can you pass me the jam?" I ask in order to avoid his question. He nods and reaches for the jar that is right in front of him. He hands it to me.

"Here you are." I mumble a silent 'thanks' in reply and place it back on the table, giving myself some time in case I manage to wake up a bit.

But Peeta has always been the one to destroy my plans.

He enters the kitchen with a grumpy expression plastered on his face. It would be quite laughable, if it weren't for the situation we're both in. He shoots a glance at his brother who stares back at him open-mouthed.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Tyler asks, but then remembers my mom is also in the room. He gives her an apologetic smile while she shakes her head in what I think to be comprehension instead of disapproval.

"Shut up, Tyler," Peeta replies. He approaches my mom and waits until she turns to her left to face him.

"Do you need anything?" she asks.

"Just something to eat before I go to the bakery." She gives him a slice of bread similar to mine.

"Take this. It was for Prim, but I can make her another one. She'll stay in bed for two more days, anyway." He hesitates for a second before he welcomes her offer.

"Thank you," he says.

"Why don't you sit with Katniss and Tyler?" she suggests. He takes a cautious look at the latter without even acknowledging me and shakes his head.

"No, Mireille. I'm already late. I promised I'd help dad today, but I slept in."

"Oh, relax! Darryl will be there. Dad will have no problem. You look like shit anyway," Tyler lets him know, earning this way a glare. "By the way, did you sleep here last night?" he adds with a wink. Peeta shrugs and bites the bread before informing us about returning when the bakery closes for the day and eventually leaving the room.

"I'll ask him later. Something's up," Tyler promises. Awkward silence fills the room for a good couple of minutes.

"He did come back, Tyler," I spit in irritation out of the blue. He gives me a weird look, even though I don't seem to care that much. The implication of Peeta staying with a girl for the night gets on my nerves. He technically stays with two girls each and every night in this house, but it's much different. Prim and I weren't brought here because it was our choice.

"Did you see him when he arrived?" he wonders. The answer is not so important to him—or at least I don't want it to be important. Thus I remain silent.

"Katniss, is it okay, if I go to work today?" I lift my gaze to meet my mother's.

"Sure. I want to stay with Prim." When I mention her name, the unmistakable feeling of longing surfaces. This time there is no way I'll change my mind.

I wait until Tyler leaves the house. Just before mom does, too, I stop her with a question.

"You know where…where I can find Hazelle's number?" Her mouth opens and closes in response. She knows how much I hate the phone, so she just stares at me. At least that is until she gets over her shock.

"Of course, sweetheart." And she tells me.

* * *

><p>I run my hand over my face and wait until I hear a woman's voice greeting me on the other edge of the line.<p>

"Hazelle," I mutter, wondering whether she eventually managed to hear me.

"Katniss, is that you?" she asks hopefully. I nod my head, but then remember she can't really see me. This is why I always prefer face-to-face conversations.

"Yes," I whisper. I clear my throat. "I mean yes. It's me."

"How are you doing? Everything alright in District Twelve? You must be really busy with the wedding." She laughs. I don't understand her bizarre attitude until I realize there is also some nervousness in her voice. It's not her fault. I am the one who caused this.

"Yes. Everyone is excited." My own voice is so dead that I doubt she has missed the emptiness in it. The hollow sound signaling everything but excitement.

Hazelle doesn't mention anything else about my opinion on the wedding and I am more than just grateful. "This is really good to hear." _Just perfect._

"Is Gale there?" I finally get to the point.

"No, I'm sorry. He's at work."

"Oh," I mouth. "Could you…could you give me his number then?" Silence. "Please?" I add, hoping that she will come around in the end, if she's already thinking of rejecting me.

"I wanted to talk to him, too. He'll be back in…" There is a pause and I guess she's making it to check the time. "…in about an hour. Will you call again then or do you want me to tell him about this call?" I clench my fist around the telephone receiver. One hour is too much.

"Tell him to call me back when he finds the time," I decide to say.

"Would you mind if you two talk in ten minutes?" she asks.

"N-no, it's okay. Please, don't forget it, though," I beg for a second time.

"Don't worry, dear. I won't." After I thank her, we hang up.

Those ten minutes must have been the most excruciating ten minutes of my life. Hazelle's promise keeps me on the edge of my seat and when the ringing of the phone is heard, I almost jump from it.

I grab the receiver with one hand and rush to answer.

"Gale," I say. My voice is so hasty and forced that he might even think someone is chasing me.

"Catnip. My mother told me you just called." He gives me some seconds, hoping I will explain myself to him without much effort. However, I can't recall a time when he was the lucky one.

"I did," I confirm.

"What's wrong?" he wonders. It is obvious there are other priorities at the top of his list. Talking to me is insignificant, but crucial at the same time. He chose to confront _me_, not his work. I should feel not only thankful, but also flattered. Instead of exploiting the fact, though, I do nothing but try to focus on his faint breathing. Once he repeats the question, I sense he has started to grow impatient.

"I don't…I don't know what to tell you." There is a long, pregnant pause before he answers.

"But you were the one to call me," he reasons. "Look, I'll be done in an hour. I could call you from home, if there is no serious probl—"

"—there is!" I exclaim to stop him from hanging up. I take a deep breath before I keep talking. "There is a serious problem and I have to tell you _now_. I just have no idea where to start from," I explain.

"You know, you could always start from the beginning. It helps."

"F-fine. I…I sort of…" I sigh. "Do you remember our conversation about weak moments? It was when you came in Twelve for the Christmas holidays."

"Uh-huh, I remember indeed. I also recall advising you to control them. It…it wasn't personal of course. And it still isn't. Though, you don't have much of a choice, do you?" His tone is questioning, but I can't help taking that as a reminder. It might be his way of starting a lecture. Even though a lecture is the last thing I can take right now, I'm perfectly aware of the fact that I do need it.

"I had a weak moment," I confess. I don't know what to wish for anymore. Do I want him to be here and yell at me for my completely thoughtless behavior? Do I want him to stay where he is so that he won't overreact? I have no clue. Besides, I doubt the word "overreaction" has limits anymore.

"What are you talking about?" he demands. "Katniss, what are you talking about?" he says again. All at once, everything seems insufferable. My thoughts from yesterday, my feelings, my actions and desires, my need to talk to my best friend through an electronic device—

"Katniss. You're not ready yet and I'm already getting suspicious looks. I can't talk to you now."

"No! Gale, no—I'll tell you—just give me…" I inhale deeply and close my eyes.

"We'll talk later," he simply replies. And I tell him. Just like that. All of the weight is lifted off my shoulders.

"I kissed Peeta," I blurt out.

"Wh—hold on…hold on…" He takes some breaths, then continues. "_What_?"

"You shouldn't expect me to say it again. This is just…not going to happen."

"Wait…this is serious…When? How? Who started it?" he presses. I cannot really see him but I imagine him staring with wide eyes at nowhere in particular.

"Does it matter who started it?"

"The hell it does! He's…he's your freaking brother, Katniss! You can't…what were you thinking?" he exclaims.

"Gale, you're at work. They're going to hear you," I remind him, although I personally don't give a damn about it.

"Then, let them hear me. Who started it? This is important, don't you understand?"

"What should I understand? I know Madge wouldn't have asked for the details, had I called her instead!" I soon realize what a wrong move that was. Relating Madge's friendship to Gale's is not helpful at all at the moment and I know it. Fortunately, he decides to simply sidestep the comparison.

"I didn't ask you for the details. I only asked you to tell me how—I don't get it, Catnip. This time you really did get in trouble."

"I know," I mumble.

"And I can do nothing to help you, you must know that."

"I know," I repeat.

"You've screwed up," he declares. I shake my head.

"I know, Gale! I _know_!" I yell at the top of my lungs. He's not the one to blame, yet he's the only one I have the ability to shout at without the fear of being criticized. Even if, in reality, I kind of_am._

"I can see that. I mean…" He lets a soft, sympathetic laugh escape him. "…you _called_ me. You wouldn't have called me, even if your house had burnt to ashes."

"He started it. Yesterday was…the fourteenth of February…and well…he went out and…and I called him something I shouldn't have…"

"Apparently. What did you call him?" he wants to know. I shrug.

"Selfish bastard," I reply nonchalantly. To my surprise, he bursts into laughing. I realize that he is the one playing with my patience, not the other way round. "Don't laugh at me—this is certainly not funny."

"And what should I do? This is just ridiculous. I mean…isn't it? He was turned on because you _cursed_ him," he says amused.

"He was _not_ turned on," I growl through gritted teeth, emphasizing each and every word separately. "Peeta doesn't curse. After all, I'm not quite finished yet. There's more."

"Go ahead, then." He suddenly appears more eager than he was before. For a brief moment I think of reminding him of his work, but I quickly push that thought aside. I honestly need to get it all out.

"Well…at first I remember arguing with him. He came back half an hour after midnight and…and he kept asking me questions and I just…I couldn't do anything—he got on my nerves! I told him I didn't believe him and then—"

"—Hey, hey! Katniss, calm down! Take a breath. Take a breath," he repeats. I comply loud enough for him to hear. "Good. Keep going."

"He wanted me to believe he'd stay in the house for me, but I just couldn't. I couldn't."

"He said that word for word?"

"Huh?" I mutter confused.

"He said _for you_?"

"Yeah? Why…why are you asking me this?"

"Oh man…you're both so…serious. Are you sure it's not for fun?" he makes a guess.

"Gale! I don't believe you! This is not some kind of entertainment, haven't you realized it yet?"

"No, of course it isn't. For _you_. But I don't want you to get hurt, Katniss. You're so…clueless. They could take advantage of you and you wouldn't—" My mouth hangs open. He sentence is cut off by the sound of disbelief coming out of my lips.

"Oh, you give me so much credit, Gale," I say sarcastically. His name in the end is nothing but a low growl.

"No, you know I didn't mean it like th—" Once more he doesn't get to finish. I hang up and clench my jaw. Maybe calling him wasn't such a good idea after all.

Checking on Prim, however, won't be that bad.

* * *

><p>I always hate it when I'm wrong. The conversation doesn't start in a relatively pleasant way as usual and it doesn't end nicely, either.<p>

"Is anybody home?" she asks. I raise an eyebrow.

"No. They left."

"Oh," she says. "Because I heard you shouting and…I thought…that maybe you and mom had a fight that had something to do with…Gale…His name was mentioned," she explains.

"His name was mentioned because I called him. Don't look at me like that—I did use the telephone," I say proudly, making her smile ever so slightly. She frowns as soon she realizes it didn't go so well. "Hey, what are you holding there?" I wonder so as to change the subject before it gets too uncomfortable.

"Oh, this?" Once she raises the object, I spark of recognition is to be found almost immediately. She tells me what it is, even though I already know. "This is Peeta's block. He forgot it in the room with the piano before he got out."

"And you took it? Without his permission?" She shakes her head with a smile.

"I'm positive he will have no problem. The drawings are all so beautiful anyway. Wanna see?" she suggests.

"No, thanks. I have seen most of them," I admit. She giggles. "What is it now?"

"You're wrong, you know. You have seen the one third of them—just like me. Actually…I saw everything today, while I was eating what mom made for me." She makes a small gesture towards her nightstand. I snort and extend my hand.

"Fine, give it here." She happily obliges. She makes room for me and I have no choice but to take the seat she offers on the bed, right next to her.

I take the block in my hands, before I roll my eyes for one last time and open it. I soon realize there's nothing unusual in it; I remember seeing him draw almost each and every one of them. I'm about to hand it back to my sister, when something manages to catch my attention.

I narrow my eyes at the picture, while my mouth hangs open in awe and trepidation before I have the chance to register it. I decide not to linger on what is in front of me anymore and rush to get rid of the sight by turning the page. However, seconds later, I realize my idea is nothing more than a terrible mistake.

Every time I turn a page, I am met with an even more terrifying drawing—from the oldest to the newest ones. _Me_ in that red plaid dress he talked to me about, _me _placing the burnt loafs of bread in my jacket with a desperate expression on my face, _me_—and Prim in the background—staring at the cakes with the beautiful frosting in front of the glass of the bakery, _me_ waiting for the Hawthornes at the schoolyard, _me_ doing homework in his room, _me_ holding a bright yellow dandelion, _me_ trying to suppress a smile, _me_ laughing, _me_ scowling—it's _me_. Always _me_.

"Aren't they beautiful?" Prim asks. I turn around to look at her with wide eyes.

"Breathtaking," I mutter, hoping at the same time she won't be able to find any traces of sarcasm in my voice.

_What the hell is wrong with him?_

I am more than just tempted to call Gale again, but I don't see how this is going to help me. Peeta having a wrong kind of relationship with me for fun is what terrifies my best friend, but what scares me is completely different. Peeta meaning everything he says sounds even more threatening at the moment.

I close the block with all the force I can muster and huff in exasperation which is soon combined with other, more complicated feelings. Anger, amazement, fright, shock, surprise, irritation and thousands of emotions I can't quite place at the moment appear capable of driving me over the edge. This riot inside of me is enough to ensure me sleepless nights for the rest of my life.

I frown. I knew this was not going to end up well. I have no idea of what is going on not only in Peeta's head, but also in mine. Of course I never imagined that kissing him would have made things clearer for me—no matter how _good_ it felt to let it all out—but _this_ was what confused me the most.

He seemed unable to get rid of this pressure that existed in him for so long, the fury because of my unexpectedly obsessive behavior as well as every other unknown to me need. Those needs of him, though, are the result of the unexplainable questions running through my fuzzy mind.

Why would he feel pressured? We made it pretty obvious that everything was going okay once I had gotten over my problem with living in the same house as them, hadn't we? It's not like he would have this strange urge of marking his territory. This is something that often bothered Gale in the past, when he wanted to protect his family and the pride of his origin.

And why would he choose to react like that? He could have simply ignored my not-so-kind comment. He could have turned his back on me and left. I know this wouldn't be Peeta, but was what I saw and tasted yesterday also a part of him? He's always gentle and perfect in my mind. I never really imagined him to be so passionate, obsessive and determined—this is _me_. _I_ am the one to do whatever it takes just to prove a trivial point.

He must have sensed that this "point" is not so trivial to me. He has mentioned several times that Prim and I are important to him…but important enough to be kissed? It doesn't make sense.

"Katniss, what's wrong?" Prim's voice brings me back to reality. I shake my head as if to clear it and attempt to give her a smile. It gets out completely wrong, resulting in her mirroring my false happiness.

I ruffle her already messy hair.

"Nothing's wrong, little duck. Do you want me to braid your hair?" I suggest, hoping she will take my invitation and help me distract myself.

"Sure, why not?" When her reply comes, I almost jump from the bed. Maybe my excitement is too much to be considered real even by her.

She makes a face. "Katniss…you know you can tell me what the problem is, right?" she encourages.

"Of course I do, Prim." Of course I _don't_ Prim.

"Then, come on. You might find a way to feel better."

"I already have," I admit and show her my braid. Though, this time I make no effort to smile.

Peeta's drawings are included in my long train of thought. I remember how understanding he was when I told him I wouldn't let him draw me the day before. My words were obviously futile—nothing more than a waste of time—while his answer was pure irony. I know I will never find the guts to ask him about it, but I _will _eventually discover a way to find out about his motives.

* * *

><p>I don't really count the times Cato elbows me, but I bet this is the fourteenth time. If I didn't have more complicated issues to think about, I'm sure I would have lost control.<p>

"Will you listen to me?" he whispers without caring whether he bothers the teacher or not. When he sees there is no way I'm going to pay attention to him he grabs my book from in front of me and writes something on it. I roll my eyes, but read what he wrote when I have it back anyway.

_Will you go to the school ball with me?_

"First off, there is no school ball. You're in District Twelve, not Two. Plus even if there was, I wouldn't go," I whisper back.

"And why not? You have what you need, you have an escort, you will soon have the date of the ball…"

"How many times do I need to tell you? There is _no_ school ball."

"Miss Everdeen. I believe the school ball has nothing to do with the assignment we were talking about." I instantly feel my whole face heat up. Maybe I have gotten out of control, after all. Instead of apologizing, though, I ask the most stupid question I could have come up with.

"What assignment?" Everyone starts laughing. I lower my head and glare at what Cato wrote on the right page of my book.

The teacher sighs. "It looks like I will have to start from the beginning," he says. "As you see Miss Everdeen we haven't talked about the subject of the assignment yet, simply because everyone is going to have a different one. We only mentioned that you will make teams. Preferably a boy and a girl in one group."

"Oh," I whisper, loud enough for myself to hear it.

"I'm glad we understand each other. I have made a list here…" He picks a piece of paper from his desk and shows it to the class. "I am going to choose partners for you. You will have to meet at least once a week, if you want this to work out. There will also be a school trip to another District in the end of April. No exclamations, please."

The minutes pass as insignificant questions are asked and answered. Several moments later, the teacher starts calling our names so that we will be able to see our partners. I stay there, staring at the blackboard.

All of sudden I realize how difficult things have gotten for me. It's not just Peeta I have to avoid in my own house, it's also my mother. I have to stop being so reactive every time she says something that bothers me. I have to get on her good side, no matter what. I just feel like if she examines me closely like she does when something is wrong, she will see I have been kissed by my brother-to-be. The thought alone makes me cringe. Less than forty eight hours have passed, yet I still have his taste on my lips, still smell the rain in the air. Never mind that the sun is burning.

I feel all of the pressure return when I realize that the real reason why the next few weeks will be hectic and agonizing has to do with one of my greatest fears. I'm afraid that people will know I accepted his kiss, just like they'll know _why_I did it way sooner than me. I always hated it when Prim or Gale knew about my feelings before I could have the chance to process what was happening around me.

This time everything has to be different.

Peeta's name is called and I freeze right on the spot. Because my name is to be heard right after his. I look frantically to my left for some help—although I never thought I'd ask for help from Cato—but I see he's already missing. Instead, Peeta is walking towards me.

I keep glaring at the teacher. Why is everything _against_ me?

Peeta finally sits next to me, but I don't bother to pay attention. Or better…I try not to pay attention. I _hate_ this.

He lets out a long, defeated sigh and begins to talk.

"We don't need to be partners, you know." I swallow and take my pen in my hands. I need something to hold on to. "Is this going to be like the last time you talked to me?" This is enough to terrify me, even though it is pretty clear he didn't mean it the way I chose to take it. I know he doesn't mean what happened between us two nights before won't happen again. _I_ won't let it happen.

"No," I finally reply. He nods, but doesn't look away. I am the one to avert my gaze from his. I clearly recall him searching for that "_something_" in my eyes since the day I moved in the house of the Mellarks. He's doing it again and this time I'm afraid there are just too many things for him to see. Things that matter—things I want to keep to myself.

I snap my head towards his direction but keep my eyes on my hands resting on top of my book.

"Why did you do it?" I demand.

"Is it me you're talking to…or is it your book?" I clench my jaw.

"Why did you _do_ it?" I repeat, making it obvious he is the one I'm talking to.

"Did what?"

"Don't make me say it. You know what I'm talking about." The fact that I appear more hostile than I had originally expected is not helpful at all.

"Just so you know, it doesn't work like that, Katniss," he lets me know with a hint of irritation in his voice. It is as if he's trying to prove I'm not the only one driving myself crazy.

I part my lips. Just when I'm about to tell him something really mean—the first argument that popped in my head—the bell rings. I curse myself for asking him in the first place.

After the sound of the bell, Peeta doesn't say a word—or this is what I think in the beginning. Before I have the ability to let out the breath I've been holding for so long, he speaks again.

"Are you waiting for an apology?" he asks in the same demanding tone as mine. "Well, are you?" he presses. I simply stare at him. "'Cause if you are, I'm afraid I can't give it to you." And with this, he turns on his heel and leaves me in my misery.

I watch him as he approaches the teacher and exchanges some soft words with him. The expression on his face proves that the apology I might have wanted to hear—I truly don't know—is meant for that man. I gather my things to leave as well, trying my best not to focus on how much I disliked—despised even—my conversation with Peeta. There shouldn't have been a conversation.

"Katniss, can I talk to you for a minute?" the teacher asks. For a moment it is like my feet are glued to the ground. I immediately start thinking of the worst existing possibilities, but soon remember how to walk.

To my surprise, when I stand in front of him, he just smiles.

"Peeta must have talked to you about pairing up with Maddison. There are not so many alternatives for you, but I believe Cato wouldn't mind."

"W-what are you talking about?" I ask baffled.

"Oh. I guess your brother didn't tell you, then. He let me know you both preferred working separately. His partner for the assignment will be Maddison. What is your choice?"

_Ouch_.

I blink several times and watch his lips move but can't seem to be able to hear anything anymore. It is as if I'm stabbed.

"Katniss," he repeats for what I think to be the umpteenth time.

"Y-yes? Oh—oh—I think…Cato will be fine." He smiles one more time and corrects his list.

I grip the straps of my schoolbag and walk away after I hear him mutter a soft "goodbye".

My heart clenches. For the first time after a really long time I walk home alone.

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><p><strong>AN: I guess I will need feedback after every chapter I write…I have to admit it won't be too weird, if you tell me this chapter was too disappointing for you. But Katniss and Peeta both need their time. I can only hope I made it clear she's confused…and whatever she is anyway…**

**The apology-to-Katniss issue: Peeta might be a little OOC, though, there is a reason for this. I think you'll see more of him in the next chapter. It will be**_**his**_**chapter—a special Peeta chapter, haha xD [by the way, not his POV—still Katniss's]**

**Ahem. Will it be too much if I ask for some (nice) reviews? I got so many in the last chapter—it was so amazing! Wanna see how fast I can make it the next time? (Well, definitely not faster, but I can always try.)**

**I'll see you soon;)**

**P.S. Forgive any distracting errors…**


	13. Chapter XIII: March

**A/N: Hiya there! Your reviews make me really, really happy—you must know that. Forever and always.**

**Though, I've realized that I unfortunately can't please everyone. For instance some of you liked the idea of Cato, while some of you didn't. In this case, I think I'll stick to my original plan (or I could do something in between)…I hope that's okay with you, since I'll also try not to overdo it with anything.**

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><p><strong>Extra notes for:<strong>

**1)**_**those of you who thought Gale was off**_**: **Caring about someone doesn't necessarily mean being in love with them. Gale has been Katniss's best friend for years—of course he would react this way. I believe that I'd get him OOC, if he just stayed there and told her everything was going to be okay. In my mind Gale's a realist. He was forced to grow up in the cruelest way when his father died (just like Katniss). He wouldn't be the one to "lie". Plus the fact that he's not jealous of Peeta (at all) is pretty obvious when he laughs with/at Katniss. There is no awkwardness in his words.

**2)**_**those of you who want a kiss**_**:** Haha, I didn't know you'd expect another one in chapter twelve—I just…wouldn't go this far…and so quickly. They're not siblings yet, but I guess they can't find a good enough reason to be with each other, either. It would be way too easy!

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><p><strong>Title of the fanfic:<strong>House of chaos

**Summary:**[AU/New characters].What if Peeta and Katniss never were tributes in the Games? What if President Snow was dead? What if two people with a past suddenly decided to reunite? Would the members of the new family coexist or would they live in a house of chaos?

**Chapter 13:**(XIII)

**Genre:** Romance/ Family

**Rated:**T (13+) Oh, just ignore the rating. It could be even K+ for this particular chapter.

**Disclaimer:**I only own the plot and the new names of the characters. Everything else belongs to Suzanne Collins.

**Special thanks to (for reviewing):**_**Mocking Verse**_**,**_**Jen**_[patience for that kiss;)],_**HungerGamesLover1020**_[are you kidding me? Long reviews are my favorites!(if they're not too mean)]**,**_**sarah**_**,**_**TheAfterShock**_**(Cat and Red),**_**loversofdistrict12**_**,**_**lolyy**_[as I've mentioned in a PM to one of the reviewers, Peeta's not as mad at Katniss as he is at himself. It wasn't because he was proud, it was because he thought it was the best for her. Well, I'm already telling you too much—you'll see what I mean in this chapter.]**,**_**GirlOnFire2012**_**,**_**teampeeta4ever**_**,**_**newbie**_**,**_**SWPeetaxKatnissAvatarTLA**_**,**_**DHPKDreamer**_**,**_**LiveLaughLovekataang**_**,**_**KMloveya**_**,**_**langkuoch**_**,**_**capmember101**_**[**I do have plans for this chapter and I do have plans for this story in general. Patience.:)]**,**_**TaqiWaqi**_**,**_**marisa123**_**,**_**Danni**_**,**_**Lgwater27**_**,**_**Kari**_**,**_**iam97**_**,**_**kolaps, BetaPinheiro, Peeta-is-all-mine, sweetvolcano, KHO, clarisssssa, scoco, KEandPM**_and_**Katniss3Peeta.**_

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><p>"Dorian?" I call in a questioning tone as I enter the kitchen. He never stays at home until this late unless he makes sure someone is at the bakery. "What are you doing here?" I ask.<p>

Prim gives me a mischievous grin from where she stands and brings her index finger to her lips as if to shush me. Her gesture only manages to double my confusion.

"What's wrong?" I wonder. I almost gasp when I feel a hand on the small of my back. I turn around to come face to face with Tyler.

"Chill, sis. Dad, I brought the cake," he informs Dorian and holds the square box with both hands.

"Good. Leave it on the counter," he instructs. His son obliges and all I can do is follow their movements in order to realize what is going on around me.

"Oh, I see you can easily lose track of time. Or am I wrong?" Tyler asks in a playful tone. Before I have the chance to frown, he rushes to speak again. "I'm only joking of course."

"Yeah…but would you mind telling me what's going on? It would be nice…if I knew…" I trail off. Instead of answering me, Tyler approaches me and places an arm around my shoulder.

"You know, Katniss…I wish the Hunger Games were over sooner."

"I know." I nod. "Who doesn't?"

"No, I mean…" He lets out a long sigh. "I want to make sure Peeta is treated the way he deserves to be treated. There are some times he really gets on my nerves, but he's still my brother." He raises his free palm to stop me from protesting. "Before you say anything…today is the seventeenth of March." My mouth opens and closes again. I remember Prim mentioning something in the last few months, but I'm afraid that if I'm wrong I will be more than just humiliated.

Avoiding Peeta has become a routine by now. Half-finished conversations in front of the other members of the family, awkward brushes of fingers while reaching for the same object, random glances that last less than a second each and every time could be considered a part of it.

However, when Tyler starts talking, my assumptions are instantly confirmed.

"Do you know what they told me when I turned eighteen?" I shake my head, because I truly have no clue. "Well, they immediately reminded me of the Games. They reminded me that this was the year I had the most slips in the reaping ball than I had ever had before." Of course this is nothing compared to Gale's forty two slips in the ball, but I say nothing. He does have a point. "I just want to make sure my brother gets more pleasant words to hear from us. Do you understand what I mean?" He unwraps his arm from around me.

"It's his birthday, isn't it?" I say. He smiles as a reply. I take that as "yes". "I would never mention the Games to him," I assure him. As a result, he lets his smile widen.

"Good. Come on now. We need your opinion." He takes my hand and drags me next to my mother. She has already opened the box. She takes the cake out and carefully places it on the counter. I step closer and let out a small laugh.

"I thought this was the cake Peeta had been working on for the whole week," I say. Tyler laughs with me, while Prim approaches us to take a better look at it.

"Oh, it is," he answers.

"And—wait. Let me get this straight. You made him decorate his own birthday cake?" He shrugs in indifference.

"I guess…"

"This is just…" I shake my head. "I don't know. Laughable."

"Mireille, how many candles has Tyler brought?" Dorian asks.

"I think he's brought two…" She checks for one last time. "…yes, two candles. I don't think we need more."

"No, you're right, we don't," Dorian agrees. "Katniss will you call, Peeta, please?" His voice echoes in my head and the only thing I manage to do is stare at him like an idiot.

Call Peeta? Why do I have to be the one to call him? There's always Prim or Tyler or my mother or—

"Sure," I hear myself say, but my wide eyes remain on his figure. In a strange way, I'm clearly afraid of removing my gaze from him.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings, saving me from the inevitable conversation with the missing member of my supposed family. I almost immediately scold myself for thinking this way. Today is his eighteenth birthday and the least I can do is respect the fact, if not make an exception from my usual "routine".

"I'll go open it," I volunteer a little too eagerly, but eventually decide not to care about the suspicion I might raise in the next few moments. Though, Prim says she'll call Peeta for me, just to result in me appreciating her assistance even more.

I give myself some time and take several deep breaths as I walk towards the door. Just the thought of getting to talk with Peeta properly after so much time makes my heart beat faster inside my chest.

I place my hand on the handle and watch the door as it opens wide to reveal the last person I was expecting to see now. The frown is on my lips before I have the time to process which my way to confront _her_ is.

"Good morning, Katniss," _she_ says with a smile that makes Delly look like an angel.

Cato and I somehow managed to agree that we won't be meeting to complete the assignment. It would be really scary, if I let him move around the Mellark household once a month, let alone once a week. At first, I was pretty startled since he was the one to give me the hint of this particular idea. I wondered—and still do—whether the bet is still on. He acted too indifferent for the case.

Peeta and Maddison, however, have been meeting pretty regularly. When he went to her house, I would always find a way to freak out without having anyone worry about my sanity. When she came here, though, Prim would usually have to take me in our room. She would find a plausible enough excuse for us to be pardoned for _my_ behavior. The thing is that Maddison never bothers to hide her irritation with a smile like Delly does after my not-so-nice comments. Delly has to go through a lot to get mad at someone anyway.

_It is his eighteenth birthday._

This is the thought that makes me voice whatever I have in mind without hesitation. This is not a day for him to work on an assignment. I tell her so.

"Why not? I'm sure he's already waiting for me," she says with confidence.

"Yeah…well…he's not. I would appreciate it, if you left." She opens her mouth to protest, but I cut her off. "Look, it's just for today. You can come whenever you want after this," I tell her, already regretting my own words. When she asks for the reason again all I can do is hold back from launching myself at her.

"It is his birthday," I finally admit in defeat. Her typical grin widens.

"Really? It is? Oh, I would love to come in, then!"

"No!" I exclaim. I rush clear my throat. "I mean…no…that's the point. No visits for today."

"But…" I raise my palm to stop her.

"Wait here." She clenches her jaw. "I won't make you wait more than a minute, I mean it." I don't know what makes me promise her this, but I do.

I run to the kitchen and look around frantically. My mother, Dorian and Tyler give me bewildered looks, obviously waiting for my next move. Prim appears in the room, reminding me that my time is truly running out and that Peeta is going to arrive soon, too.

I spot the box full of cookies right from the bakery as it rests on the middle of the wooden table. I grab it with both hands, trying at the same time to block Tyler's playful complaints away. Maddison is still standing at the threshold, her mouth slightly open in surprise. Before she has the chance to process what is happening, I shove the box with the cookies into her hands.

"They're fresh," I assure her. "Goodbye." And with this, I slam the door shut. I fight for an excuse so that I won't have to open it again, but am I relieved when the knocking never comes.

I wait for several moments before I start to walk towards the kitchen for a second time. However, when the happy wishes are heard I realize I'm a bit late. He's already there and I remember how I was hoping for a less dramatic and indiscreet entrance, since I'm not exactly the one to turn eighteen today. I have almost two months until then. My wish is futile.

Everyone's eyes, including Peeta's, follow me as I sit awkwardly on the only empty chair I find, next to my sister and across from Tyler.

I can feel my mother's stare burning holes through my skull, apparently expecting me to wish Peeta happy birthday. But my voice is suddenly stuck in my throat. I'm positive that if his partner for the assignment had knocked on the door five minutes later than she actually did, I would have been forced to surrender and therefore let her in. Thus I'm glad she appeared just in time.

"Katniss, sweetheart?" my mother calls. I lift my gaze to meet hers, expecting her to humiliate me—unconsciously of course—in the worst possible way in front of Peeta. "Who was it?" she eventually asks. My relief is only temporary, since I get the chance to work out her real question seconds after my guess.

"Oh, nobody," I say.

"Nobody?" she repeats. I lower my head. I feel like if I look at any of them, my eyes will instantly betray me.

"No…it was someone…but was not important…I guess…" Tyler senses I need a hand and changes the topic.

"I'm hungry. Dad, why don't we sell pancakes at the bakery?" The question is completely thoughtless. I think of how I would have had to hold back from laughing, if I wasn't feeling so stressed about the consequences of my actions.

"Because we don't need to sell pancakes at the bakery," Dorian reasons. "By the way, Katniss, do you have the cookies?" he asks.

I swallow and slowly place both of my hands on the tablecloth, proving that I don't have them with me.

"What happened to them?" Peeta continues the conversation, before I dare to shoot him a meaningful glance. He apparently makes the connection between the two issues—the one of the person who visited as well as the one with the cookies—and proceeds to take Tyler's place and be my savior.

"We have cookies every day. I'd say that a change is nice," he announces.

The subject changes once more. It is like he assures me I don't need to explain myself. This would happen pretty often in the past. He and I would communicate without speaking or having anyone question us.

I can't really tell whether the feeling is pleasant or not, but the thought of him going back to the Peeta I knew, the Peeta who contributed to getting me out of my shell, makes my stomach flutter without a single warning.

"Peeta!" Prim calls. "You need to blow out the candles," she reminds him. He gives her my favorite smile and I watch as his face lights up when Dorian stands up to bring the cake from the counter. The spark of recognition is there from the moment it is placed on the table, in front of us. He laughs and shakes his head.

"Had I known it from the beginning, I wouldn't have wasted so many ingredients," he lets us know.

"That was the point. It had to be special," his father answers, while my mother silently agrees with a nod of her head.

"Well, thanks." When the candles are lit and he's about to blow both of them out, Prim interrupts him.

"Wait!" He gives her a puzzled look. "You need to make a wish first," she explains. He obviously didn't expect to hear this from my sister. He stares at her and then, before he moves his eyes back to the cake, it is like his gaze manages to linger on me, too. Though, it might be my mind playing tricks on me for the umpteenth time.

I push every similar thought aside and watch him lean closer to the flame of the candles. He closes his eyes for some seconds and does as he was originally instructed, before the almost unnoticed soft breath he lets out mingles with the shades of gray from the smoke.

"You don't get to say it," Prim tells him. "It won't come true," she adds. Tyler rolls his eyes and pats Peeta's back.

"Wow, you're all grown up now, aren't you?" Peeta only shrugs as a response. "Yes, you are. And we need to get you a present, right, dad?" Dorian agrees, even when Peeta tells them he doesn't need a present.

"Weird…" he mutters after a while, when he and his brother are about to exit the kitchen.

"What's weird?" Tyler stops walking.

"Maddison said she'd come here this morning. The project is going more than just alright, but…" he trails off, making me sink in my chair. How much have I screwed up this time?

Tyler seems to notice the change and eyes me suspiciously, resulting in Peeta also following his gaze. Instead of letting his eyes move away from mine like he used to do before our parents decided to reunite, he narrows them at me, examining me closely. I can tell he believes this has something to do with me.

Then, he makes a gesture I would never expect him to do after the way we've been treating each other for the last month. He shows me the direction of the staircase with his head. At first, I have this urge of looking behind me, wondering whether he's really acknowledging _me_. My—surely—pink cheeks, though, won't allow any more humiliation.

I mouth a simple "okay" and stand on my feet to leave the room as well. When I am out of my mother and Prim's eyesight, I see that Tyler has already started climbing the stairs.

I approach Peeta and let my hands fall to my sides, while he smiles at me.

"She came here…and the cookies…with the box—I didn't mean to…I…" I sigh. "I'm really sorry, I guess I should have asked you beforehand. It is difficult to believe a word of what I'm trying to say, but it seems like he does.

"Well, I never really called you here to explain yourself…but I can assure you a day without work is not that bad…right?" I breathe a sigh of relief.

"You tell me," I mumble.

Suddenly, everything I've kept inside and wanted to tell him for all that time we were literally absent from each other's lives results in my mind being flooded with thousands of questions, from the most important to the most insignificant ones. Though, I feel like voicing them won't be such a great start.

"Is it too late?" I ask. "To wish you happy birthday, I mean," I make myself clearer. He only smiles wider and makes a gesture towards him. I don't know how to take it—is this an invitation to go closer or does he want me to just get it over with? For a silly enough reason I don't do either of them.

"Here," he finally says and offers me his open palm, the purpose of his actions still unknown to me. That is until I decide to place my own hand in his.

He moves fast. He holds our hands closer to him and uses the other one to do—what exactly?

"See you around," he tells me afterwards.

I stare at him baffled as he keeps walking away from me. I don't realize what this was about until I feel something scratching my clenched fist. Once I unclench it, I bring it closer to my eyes just to come face to face with a small yellow piece of paper. By the time I unfold it, my laughter is the only thing to be heard in the hallway.

I'm aware of the fact that I have to stop wasting my time and read the note already. However, since this seems impossible without having a mirror in front of me, I need to find one first.

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><p><em>The living room, 3 am.<em>

I let out a long breath and allow my eyelids to slowly droop right after I take a look at the clock hanging on the wall.

I have two whole hours until then, yet I can't bring myself to sleep in my bed. I know I'll find it hard to wake up before six in the morning—that's something Gale and I would usually do before school, when we would go to the woods—and there is no way I can have an alarm without waking also my little sister.

The panic hasn't appeared yet and I don't really know whether this is an advantage or a disadvantage.

On the one hand, being anxious around Peeta, which is something I am not at the moment, would seem pretty ridiculous to anyone who really knows him. That's nearly impossible.

On the other hand, being too relaxed because of the _idea_ of him—not even _him_—makes me feel uneasy, too. How normal is it to feel as if I am somehow protected? How intimate are we really allowed to get without causing any misunderstandings?

I never have any decent answers to any questions revolving around him and I doubt he would be capable of responding to some of them, regardless the charisma he has with words.

I don't bother to open my eyes. Before I know it or have the chance to approve of it, I fall asleep here, on one of the couches, in the living room.

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><p>The darkness would be quite unbearable, if it weren't for the constant, soft muttering in my ear. The warm hand I feel on my arm through the fabric of my nightshirt encourages me to concentrate on the words being said in a voice barely above a whisper. I slowly start regaining consciousness as I realize the voice as well as the way my name is pronounced is a little too familiar to be neglected.<p>

My eyes flutter open so that the events from a couple of hours ago will be confirmed by the time I take in my surroundings. I let out a silent groan when Peeta gives my shoulder a gentle shake.

"I'm awake," I mumble, before I hear him chuckle. I frown and sit up.

"Hey," he says. "Katniss, you could sleep, if you're tired."

"No, I'm alright. I just couldn't wait upstairs," I profess. He nods in comprehension.

"Sorry it took me a while to come. I hope I didn't make you wait too long," he tells me sheepishly.

"You said three. And it's…" I pause to take a look at the clock. "…it's too dark. I can't see."

"I think I'm fifteen minutes late. But I'm glad you decided to come." The way he talks to me right now makes me feel as if nothing serious has happened between us. Will it be safe to talk about it at all? I eventually decide to let him speak first. Besides, he's the one who called me here.

Peeta stands up from the floor and pats the couch. "Can I?" he asks. I scoot over in order to make room for him, giving him this way my answer. "Thanks."

"No problem," I assure him nonchalantly. My eyes have slowly started adjusting to the darkness of the room, though, I still feel a slight discomfort. "Could we open the light?"

He stands up and walks towards the furniture his mother's favorite vase was once and turns a lamp on. "Is this okay with you?" he wonders.

"It's fine," I confirm. This time, when he comes to sit beside me, he shifts his weight so that he will be able to face me. I can only hope my request won't turn against me. For a minute the only thing he does is let his blue eyes bore into my dark grey ones. I say the first thing that crosses my mind at the moment.

"So…" I start. "The upside-down letters are useful enough, then?" He smiles.

"Oh, come on…what else could I have done?" he replies, his tone humorous.

"I don't know. You could have just told me." The mirth in his eyes instantly vanishes.

"No," he tells me with confidence. I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off. "I'm serious, Katniss. If I were you, I would consider it first. After everything…" He sighs.

"I did consider it," I admit.

"I know. I'm glad you did. I don't want to _make_ you do anything." I want to tell him that he wouldn't _make_ me do anything, but eventually decide against it. It looks like he has his own plans anyway.

"Well, I basically wanted to…I wanted us to talk. And…" He grins. "I'm sorry I called you here at three, but I couldn't find a better time for us to do so."

"Okay," I mutter.

"Okay? You have no problem?" He raises an eyebrow and I shrug.

"I'm awake now," I remind him. Silence follows my sentence before he finds the courage to finally break it.

"I need to apologize first," he rushes to say as if someone's chasing him. I give him a bewildered look. It's not like our time is running out. "I don't know whether you still want to spend your time with me like you did before I screwed everything up, but I want you to know that I'm sorry for being such a jerk to you." I press my lips together to suppress my smile. Hearing him call himself names in that particular tone amuses me more than it should. I realize he is waiting for me to pull myself together once again.

"Go on," I urge in an as serious voice as I can. He shakes his head.

"And I'm sorry about leaving you with Cato for the assignment. I hadn't known he was the only one left," he adds guiltily.

"Yeah…about that one…we don't work together. We agreed to do it separately. I honestly cannot imagine it being any other way," I let him know. "I just…I never understood why you did it," I say, being at the same time perfectly aware of the fact that I'm practically pushing my luck.

"I thought…that you wanted to have some time…for yourself."

"I never said so," I reply, hoping the irritation in my voice will be ignored.

"Then, I wanted to have some time for myself, too." All of sudden, I recall Gale and I's latest conversation. The expression on Peeta's face proves that he is more than just serious. My childhood friend is utterly wrong.

"Okay," I say in a small voice because I can't bring myself to tell him anything else at the moment.

"I could help you with the assignment, if you want to," he suggests.

"No," I reply. "I don't care, even if I don't make it."

"What? Why? This is the perfect way to improve your marks," he reasons.

"I don't care about my marks, don't you understand?" I instinctively look behind me in fear that someone has heard me. I lower my voice. "I don't intend on staying in Twelve. I'll leave once our parents are married." He searches my face for some seconds, but apparently doesn't know what to say.

"What is it?" I ask.

"You know, you're like an open book. I can usually tell when you're lying or when you're telling the truth…But now I…I can't." His voice cracks in the end, almost making my heart stop beating.

"I'm telling the truth," I assure him.

"You're running away," he says in a matter-of-fact tone.

"What?"

"You're running away," he repeats. "You're running away from your mother's life," he adds. I might have objected, had I thought it was a good idea.

"She won't mind when she understands I'm doing this for her." I look at the hands resting in my lap before I lift my gaze to meet his again. He rubs the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger tiredly and opens his eyes to give me the eye contact I have been looking for.

"With all the respect, Katniss… how are you going to achieve this? Even _I_ don't understand you're doing this for your mother."

"Right. I'm doing this for her relationship, not her. For her _and_ your father. I don't want to be a burden, do you know what I mean?" I ask hopefully.

"I believe some help wouldn't be bad."

"So, what should I do?"

"Help me, Katniss," he tells me as if I could have guessed it on my own. How do I help him? What do I explain what's on my mind to him?

"It started with me being selfish. As always." He shakes his head when the last part is heard. "Well, do you plan on letting me finish first?"

"Alright, sorry."

"You apologize too much, Peeta," I say and shift in the couch so that I will keep my eyes on the black screen of the television instead of his face. I pull my legs to my chest and keep talking. "The first thing that stopped this kind of thoughts for a while was Prim. I couldn't leave her on her own. I had promised myself that I would never let her down—at least that would be until she found someone to take care of her. And…" I exhale. "…since she hadn't, I couldn't exactly…escape from the nightmare. Because living with you was a nightmare for me. At first," I admit.

"Oh, come on, Peeta. Spit it out already," I say and roll my eyes.

"Does Prim have…" His tone is questioning, though, he doesn't get to finish his sentence.

"A boyfriend? No, but she has a family. Meaning that she doesn't need me anymore."

"When you say a family…you mean my father?"

"Your father. Tyler and Darryl. You."

"Katniss—"

"—Look, Peeta…I don't want to talk about it now. I have more than three months until then, okay?" I huff and turn to my left to look at him. "I don't regret the things that I do. You may say you're sorry for everything that has happened, but I'm not." I watch his face as everything I told him starts sinking in. This is when I realize my words have more meanings that just one.

"I didn't…I didn't mean that!" he hisses.

"Didn't mean what?"

"I don't regret everything. I clearly remember telling you I was not going to offer an apology. And I haven't." I frown.

"What was all this about then?" I ask puzzled. He looks away from me and lets his head lean back to the couch.

"I hoped we wouldn't get here. Not today. We haven't started yet and…" He groans, while I don't bother to reply. I know that if he intends on telling me, he will do it without second thoughts.

"Katniss," he whispers and returns my stare. Just before I start feeling like we could stay like this forever, he destroys everything for me. "I don't regret kissing you," he confesses. The truth is that I hoped we wouldn't get there, too.

My mouth hangs open, but no words come out. What does he expect me to do after this? "I'm not your brother. I don't want to be your brother," he says.

"But they say you are." He scoffs.

"They say," he repeats. "They always say. But you know what, Katniss? I'm so tired of listening to what they have to say—what they want me to do. _They_ always want something from me. I need to stop lying to myself, to _you_. So, yeah, I don't regret a thing." I blink. Surprised is nothing in contrast to what I am right now. I suddenly understand what he is talking about. This is what I've always hated. This is the reason behind the obscenities Gale and I would mutter when we were in the woods, where the Capitol couldn't reach us. Peeta is trying to remind me how unacceptable it is to be controlled. I feel so much closer to him now that I almost forget our earlier conversation. Almost.

"And why not?" I challenge. I'm literally playing with fire.

"You want to hear this?" I stiffen at the sound of his voice. He seems to realize it. "Seriously?" he asks in a softer tone this time. I nod, encouraging him to go on. "I have wanted to do it for years. _Years_. You have no idea what this means to me."

No, I don't. This is what scares me. I don't tell him so.

"After all, I liked it." When I feel my whole face heat up, I curse myself for telling him to turn on the light. I look away from him. "Don't worry," he whispers, managing to get my attention one more time. "This won't happen again. I won't do anything you don't want to do," he assures me.

"Thanks…I guess…" He chuckles.

"Good thing it is my birthday. Otherwise I would literally guarantee an arrow through my heart," he teases. I fold my arms over my chest.

"I'm not _that_ mean," I protest.

"You're not?" I glare at him. "Okay, okay, I didn't mean it."

"I know. It's not your birthday. Technically. It is the eighteenth of March," I remind him and stand up. His eyes follow me.

"Are you going to sleep?" he wonders.

"I'm just thirsty. Water?" I offer.

"No, thanks. I don't know about you…but I do need some sleep. See you tomorrow?" he asks. I nod in agreement.

"See you tomorrow." I turn on my heel and start heading for the kitchen. Seconds later, though, I find myself in the living room for a second time.

"Peeta?" I call. "I never really got the chance to tell you properly. Happy birthday." The smile on his face goes from his one ear to the other.

"I thought it wasn't my birthday today." The way he uses my argument against me makes me frown in frustration, doubling his amusement.

"Happy belated birthday, then. I hope this counts?" I tell him questioningly.

"It does," he assures me. "When I blew out that candle I wished you would forgive me, not say happy birthday to me."

"And _that_ is the most stupid thing you could ever wish for." I am barely capable of making out his facial expression, but I can say he rolls his eyes.

"Goodnight, Katniss." I mutter a soft "goodnight" that he barely catches in return and walk towards the staircase, my thirst completely forgotten.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Too fast? Too slow? Good? Awful? Sorry for no second kiss, but I just couldn't do it…yet…**

**I really hope you're okay with how things are going because I'm going to speed everything up from now on. However, I'll still try not to make it seem too rushed.**

**I'll see you as soon as possible.**


	14. Chapter XIV: April

**A/N: More than 200 reviews! Thank you all!**

**Every 100 reviews you will all get a reply, just because I say so. *grin***

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><p><strong>Title of the fanfic:<strong>House of chaos

**Summary:**[AU/New characters].What if Peeta and Katniss never were tributes in the Games? What if President Snow was dead? What if two people with a past suddenly decided to reunite? Would the members of the new family coexist or would they live in a house of chaos?

**Chapter 14:**(XIV)

**Genre:** Romance/ Family

**Rated:**T (13+) Chapter rated "T". No special reason, I just can't imagine it being "K" or "K+" at the moment.

**Disclaimer:**I only own the plot and the new names of the characters. Everything else belongs to Suzanne Collins.

**Special thanks to (for reviewing):**_**sizzorluv1234**_[I explained in the message.:)]**,**_**iam97**_[yeah, we've talked about kisses and fluff thousands of times;)]**,**_**sarah**_[glad to hear you're comfortable with me speeding it up]**,**_**loversofdistrict12**_[thank you so much! I always worry about getting Peeta OOC—Katniss is a bit closer to me]**,**_**capmember101**_[thanks!],_**lolyy**_[haha, I didn't know how the story would go, either. At least that was until chapter six-seven.]**,**_**LiveandBreatheWords**_[Great! It's one of my favorites, too (maybe even better than chapter 11). I guess for me it's because I focused on Peeta more. I wanted to (somehow) point out what the movie lacked—his speciality in various sectors. Huh, I could write a whole essay so as to analyze it.]**,**_**DHPKDreamer**_[I hope the 2 (no wait…three…) weeks went by fast enough for you]**,**_**LiveLaughLovekataang**_[I couldn't keep them mad at each other forever, right?]**,**_**Dingbingolo**_[that was as soon as possible**!],**_**Lgwater27**_[the smiley face after your "kind" declaration concerning Maddison cracked me up. No kidding.]**,**_**KMloveya**_**[**here's the next chapter.:)]**,**_**thegirlwiththebread88**_["go and get yourself a book deal already". Now…_that_ made my whole day. Thank you!]**,**_**twilightfanatic18, katnissandpeeta4eva, primrose. forever**_[thanks to all three of you], _**alexanya07**_[I'm not exactly comfortable with love triangles, so no worries. Now you do have a new chapter to read.;)], _**sick-of-dreams**_[I'm sorry for confusing you. It is most likely _I_ have ADD…], _**Ms. Fantastic**_[thanks for taking the time to read it!], _**marizpanthursday**_[thank you so much! I hope you were not supposed to accomplish anything too important:)], _**nia-ox**_[Oh, I've already told you how excited I was when I saw your review. I still can't believe you read it! O.o], _**FlyAlone**_[Good to know you enjoy long chapters ;D], _**TheAfterShock**_ [Red, it may have been in a PM, but I have to admit it was one of the most detailed reviews I had gotten for this story. I was planning on continuing this anyway, but I would also like to thank _you_ for asking about the new chapter!] and _**ajs-fan**_[the story will be continued, there is no wonder.:)].

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><p>I take some more steps towards the direction Delly told me Peeta must be. He is sitting, as expected, on one of the train seats staring out of the window. The spot beside him is empty. I smile.<p>

"Hey," I greet and approach him. He turns his head to meet my eyes and mumbles a silent "hi" back. He doesn't look away, but doesn't return my smile, either.

"Can I…?" I show him the empty seat beside him. He follows my gaze and bobs his head without uttering a word. I soon hop down beside him, but frown when he turns around again.

"It's nice," he says as he watches the green trees passing by his window. I shoot him a suspicious glance and cross my arms over my chest. He didn't convince me to go to the trip to District Four for _two whole days_ to act like _this_ now.

"What's wrong?" I ask, my tone demanding. This apparently catches him off guard, since he looks at me with raised eyebrows.

"Nothing's wrong," he replies reassuringly. I have heard him lie so smoothly about insignificant to him issues so many times before that I can't see how I will benefit from believing him now.

"Fine," I say anyway. Several seconds pass.

"Katniss…" he breathes. "Katniss," he repeats, louder this time. "Nothing is wrong. I was just thinking." His words are enough to get my attention.

"You were thinking? About what?" I retort. I shift in order to change my position and face him completely.

"Lots of things. Good and bad." He shrugs. "What brings you here?" he wonders, a smile playing on his lips.

"Well…Delly plans on doing stuff…_girl_ stuff…tonight. When we reach our dormitories. I'm not always capable of understanding what those conversations of hers are about so…" He chuckles. "I kind of found a way to escape." This time his smile is even wider.

"Trevor doesn't have anything in mind. Thankfully," he tells me.

"Katniss!" I groan. Just before I turn around to deal with the last person I wanted to see right now, I catch Peeta's amusing glance.

"_Yes_, Maddison?"

"I think you're sitting on my seat," she says. She's holding two cups in each one of her hands. I assume the one is for Peeta. "By mistake," she adds innocently. I scoff, but soon enough grin at her.

"On purpose," I correct her. "Peeta called me while you were gone."

"I didn't do an—" I elbow him. "I did!"

She sticks her bottom lip out, making a miserable effort to pout before she raises the cups higher. "But I got these," she reasons.

"And?" I challenge.

"And when I asked Peeta whether he wanted something to drink he said yes," she whines. I try my hardest not to snicker. I take a look at Peeta who has a deep frown plastered on his face. Once he catches my eye, he just shrugs.

"Uh…Maddison? You know how Trevor appreciates your company, don't you?" he says, taking me by surprise. I wouldn't expect Peeta Mellark of all people—Mister goody two-shoes—to push anybody away, not even her.

The realization of what he is truly implying dawns on her. Her effort to smile fails as the corners of her lips turn in an unpleasant way, forming this way an ugly grimace.

"He hasn't told me," she mumbles under her breath, but loud enough for us to hear her.

"Then, I'm sure he wouldn't say no to a free drink." He finally gets the chance to smile at her. She huffs in what I think to be annoyance and opens her mouth to argue, but soon enough realizes there will be no point in trying and closes it again. Then, she turns on her heel and disappears without a second word.

"Oh, Peeta, you made such a great choice when you picked your partner," I say, sarcasm dripping off my voice.

I frown at Peeta's raised eyebrows. He examines me closely and I can guarantee that I'm not very fond of it.

"No. Whatever you have in mind…don't say it," I warn him, resulting in his other eyebrow going up, too.

"I was just going to tell you that I didn't _choose_ her. She was the only one left." I seal my ears with both of my palms and start humming, hoping he will get my message. "Katniss, seriously! This is so childish!" he complains.

Instead of glaring at him, I smile. It looks like his worries from before are long forgotten.

"No more thinking?" I suggest.

"No more thinking," he confirms in a humorous, yet particularly serious tone.

* * *

><p>I wait for the wave of dizziness to pass as I try to focus on the blue eyes and blonde locks of the person in front of me. My vision becomes less and less blurry and I realize the train has stopped moving.<p>

"Are we in Four?" I ask, my voice still drowsy from sleep. I had fallen asleep before I had the chance to register it. He shakes his head and helps me sit up once more.

"No, we're in Six. We've stopped for fuel," he informs me.

"Oh," is my reply.

"Are you hungry? We have fifteen or twenty minutes until the train leaves again." I make a soft sound of displeasure. It is almost inaudible, though, he still hears it.

"It's okay," he assures me. "I can bring you something, if you really want me to. You look like you didn't sleep well last night anyway." I frown from the moment the words are out of his mouth.

"Is it that obvious?" I demand with a long, tired sigh.

"Well…I'm not exactly used to you sleeping unless it's dark outside," he reasons.

"You're losing time, Peeta. You can tell me later. Go get something first," I encourage.

"What about you, then?" he wonders.

"Don't worry about me. I'm not hungry enough to eat anything at the moment." He hesitates for a while, before he nods in comprehension and eventually vanishes from my eyesight.

I grab my chance and move to his seat. I take a look out of the window to find out that more and more students from our class have started getting off the train. Though, I don't regret my decision, not even for a single moment. Right now even the thought of taking walks sounds exhausting to me.

Several minutes pass and just when my eyelids are about to start drooping for the umpteenth time, Peeta's heavy and rushed footsteps are heard again. He falls flat on my seat and breathes heavily.

I lean against the glass of the window and prepare myself for answering his playful comments. However, when nothing but his panting is heard, I snap my head to my left to shoot him a curious glance.

My eyes fall on his empty hands.

"I thought you were hungry…?" It comes out more like a question instead of a statement. He doesn't answer. He doesn't even look at me. "_Peeta_," I call persistently.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Katniss, I just…" He shakes his head and turns to offer the eye contact I have been asking all along. "I wasn't prepared. I wasn't." He lets out a shaky breath. "You'll say I'm crazy, but I saw her. I really _saw_ her. I wouldn't…I couldn't _dream_ of seeing her ever again. I didn't want to see her," he says.

"Peeta, what are you talking about? Who did you see?" I ask. I could even say that my earlier urge to fall asleep once more is completely forgotten.

"You won't believe me," he tells me, his expression utterly unreadable.

"How do you know that?" I challenge.

"My mother," he suddenly decides to let me know. I blink. I want to believe this is impossible. Even though I don't want to prove Peeta _crazy_, as he states he is, I have no idea what she means to him anymore. It would be probably better, if it weren't real.

"Did she see you, too?" I ask him instead of saying each and every one of my thoughts out loud.

"No. No, I left."

"You already know she might have moved to Six, don't you? Her home might be here," I tell him.

"It sure isn't back in Twelve," he grunts, although his gaze remains soft and calm. Unlike me, he still has the ability of keeping a hold on himself, regardless the occasion.

He sighs. "We'd better forget about it. I can't just allow her to kill the mood. It would be like giving her the right to control my life all over again," he explains. I only nod in response, being perfectly aware of my inability to handle my thoughts and emotions. Any efforts to comfort him will be nothing more than futile.

"Good," he says. The enthusiasm is almost back in his eyes in record time. "Any plans?" he asks. I snort.

"You know how much I suck at making plans. I guess Delly's plans are my plans, too." It is obvious he's trying to hold back from laughing. "What? Do you have anything better in mind?"

"Nah, not really…" he trails off. Several moments pass before he speaks again. "Do you think I'm in trouble?" he wonders.

"Define 'in trouble'," I reply.

"For telling Maddison Trevor likes free drinks." He pauses. "Alright, he does like free drinks, but the poor guy hates her."

"Hhmhm…" I agree and sink in my seat in contentment. "What? Nothing else to tell me?"

"I will always have…_things_…to tell you. But we'd better keep it this way," he says. My eyes fly open.

"Explain yourself."

"Katniss, it's not only that I'm not supposed to tell you. It's also that…my mother's issue might be more pleasant than this. To you," he adds in the end. I huff in exasperation. He can't expect me to leave it the way it is now, right? What's wrong with him today?

"It is that bad?"

"You won't like it."

"So, it is bad."

"It will make you feel uncomfortable. This is the least that could ever happen afterwards." The faint pink color on his cheeks makes me even more suspicious than before. Peeta doesn't _blush_. He is not easily embarrassed. I narrow my eyes at him.

"It's not going to hurt anybody. Just spit it out," I insist. I'm afraid that if I start losing my patience things might not end so nicely indeed.

He lets out another shaky breath, which is an undoubtedly bad sign. He makes it more and more complicated and difficult for me to recognize him. He has created a cover and I can't see the real Peeta anymore. That is until he speaks again.

"I'm in love with you," he finally whispers. When he moves his eyes to the ground, I get the chance to avert my gaze from him, knowing that he won't keep his glued to the floor forever.

My heart misses a bit—maybe two. I want to scream at myself for crossing my own limits as well as breaking my rules. Caring so much for someone besides my sister was not in the plan. I also want to scream at _him_ for making such a horrible mistake. How can he not see this? I am a mistake. This is not going to lead anywhere.

"I told you it was a bad idea," he reminds me and even though my eyes are not on him, I can imagine he has bowed his head. I mentally curse myself for demanding so many answers from him at once. It is not like he's obliged to give me what I want. Though, he always does when he figures it out, making me feel guiltier and guiltier for abusing not only his trust, but also whatever he has to offer.

I swallow. Participating in Delly's preparations for tonight looks even more appealing and comfortable at the moment.

"Y-you can't be," I suddenly say. Even though I refuse to look at him, I can feel his eyes on me.

"Yes. This is what I've been doing, too. I was so scared that I've been lying to myself," he replies. I shudder. I'm not exactly sure of what scares—or used to scare—him, but I can't afford to be scared as well.

I look frantically around me for a way out—anything to get me out of this mess, but then remember I'm actually trapped. I have taken the seat right next to the window.

Peeta notices and sighs. "You can go, Katniss," he says in defeat. I prepare myself for more words from, him like usual, but he simply moves his feet so I will be able to leave.

I fiddle with my fingers that rest on lap, a relatively recent habit of nervousness I have adopted without having the chance to register it. Do I actually _leave_? All I know is that no matter how much I try, I can't seem to be able to process the information he has given me. It's just too much for me to take it all in. It's not believable to shock me, surprise me, overwhelm me or make me feel devastated. He _can't_ be in love with me.

I jump as if my seat is on fire. "I guess I'll go, then." I step carefully over his legs and flee as fast as my own feet will allow me without looking at him in the eye. Not even once.

* * *

><p>"I don't like her," Delly declares out of the blue. The bright smile that's always spread across her face is replaced by a particularly serious expression. She presses her lips together and shifts on her truckle bed to make herself comfortable. The creepy sound of her movements on it reaches my ears and makes me cringe.<p>

I am tempted to shoot her a questioning glance when I remember Abigayle is also in the room. She has no reason to address me. I continue searching in my sack, although I'm not really sure what for anymore.

"Katniss." When my name is heard, both of my eyebrows threaten to go over my forehead. She seems to ignore my reaction once I turn around, but keeps talking. "This is the answer to your previous question. About Maddison. She won't be in our room because I don't like her."

And just like that, Delly Cartwright has managed to take a small, yet significant step closer to me.

"Okay," I say.

"You don't like her, either, do you?" she asks. Her tone suggests this is what she wants to hear from me, not what she thinks she will. I can't help but appreciate that.

I consider my answer for a minute. I know I don't like Maddison. Though, the truth is that it is common for me not to be so fond of a classmate of mine.

"I don't like people," I finally reply, having always in mind the meaning of my words. To my complete and utter surprise, they give me a strange feeling of satisfaction. This is not what Prim or Peeta would like to hear me say. This is what the person I used to be would like to hear me say. Before I have the chance to decide whether it is progress or not, Delly silently accepts my statement and moves on.

"You know, Peeta would be better with you as his partner for the project. First off, you live in the same house. There's nothing more convenient that this fact." I feel this urge to agree with her on this, but I really can't. Sometimes living in the same house as the Mellarks is anything but convenient. There might not be conflicts among us, though, that doesn't mean I don't fight with myself.

"Do you think that if we leave the dormitories, the teachers will know?" Abigayle makes an attempt to change the topic, but miserably fails. Delly simply sidesteps her friend's comment.

"Not to mention the fact that you two are getting along better. He's your brother…you're his sister…" she tells me in a sing-song voice. I turn around and zip my sack so as to earn some more seconds to think. It is as if she's trying to tell me something. "Your parents are going to be married by the end of June, right?" I meet her eyes.

"Right," is the only thing I say in return. No _'why are you asking me this now?'_, no _'You already knew about it.'_

"Do you have anything planned until then?" she asks again, her tone more persistent than ever. What's gotten into her?

"For heaven's sake, Delly! Let. Her. _Breathe_," Abigayle exclaims, surprising all of us. For a brief moment I wonder how much she knows about what her best friend has in mind. I wonder whether they have talked about this.

"I'm sorry," Delly apologizes. I don't tell her it's okay. I don't feel like it. "I was just trying to help them," she tells Abigayle. Help _them_? I don't understand.

Suddenly her bizarre behavior is too much for me to handle.

"Tell you what," I mumble. "Maybe the teachers won't notice," I add and head for the door.

"Katniss, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be indiscreet," she says again. I scoff, but not loud enough for her to hear me.

"It's not that. I just need some air after the train ride," I explain. _To clear everything out_, I add in my head.

"You can't go today. It's dark outside," she informs me about what I'm already aware of as if she's pleading with me. "Plus, you'll miss all the fun." Her wide smile returns and for a nanosecond it is like nothing was said before. It's like there were no further implications behind her enigmatic words.

"I won't," I promise. "I won't take too long."

She exhales out loud. At some point, Abigayle stops watching the exchange of meaningless phrases between us and works on emptying her own bag.

When Delly is finally convinced I won't stay out for the rest of the night, I don't waste any more time. I exit the dorm and walk in a strangely narrow hall, taking one step after another. Once I am almost out of the place hosting our class for those two days of our trip, I am met with a short bronze-haired man.

He clears his throat, apparently expecting me to stop. I halt every movement and turn to give him an impatient look, hoping this will ease my situation. My eyes narrow at the tag on his dark blue shirt. It seems that he is partially responsible for the students here.

"May I ask, where are you going, Miss?"

"Outside," I reply nonchalantly. He checks his watch.

"It's not very late," he mutters to himself. "I am going to let you. Just this time," he says. I nod my head and prepare myself to walk away as fast as possible in case he changes his mind. "Hold on, hold on." I huff. _What is it now?_ "Tell the others to come back soon, when you see them." I am less surprised I managed to get over this so easily, when I find out that some of my classmates are also out.

"I will," I eventually speak once I figure out I can't exactly ignore him.

I walk down the completely unfamiliar road in front of the small building. The sound of my feet against the gravel on the ground makes me feel content enough—somehow—to keep dragging myself. I quickly realize there is no way people could ever lose their way here, especially if they decide to follow the coastline.

The sky is relatively dark for me to go any further, though, as usual curiosity gets the better of me and I have no other choice but to cross the street and explore what is in front of me. The inhabitants of Four call it a beach. I soon realize there are absolutely no similarities with how everything in Twelve is.

I frown by the time the first grains of sand invade my shoes and kneel down to see this is very different from the dark and moistened soil back home. As I run my fingers through the silky sand, I am surprised at how soft its texture really is.

I walk again, until the place we're all supposed to be in at the moment is almost out of my eyesight, just to discover that with each and every step I take more and more sand fills my shoes. Frustration is what makes me tug at them, silently cursing as I fight with my shoelaces for several seconds. I don't remember when or how this happened, but I unconsciously started copying some of Peeta's habits after all those months of being so close to him. Before him I always thought double knots to be the most unnerving obstacle which managed to make the ridding of my footwear extremely exhausting. I wonder whether I have gone back to believing it.

However, when my bare feet sink in the cool and refreshing sand, I already know it was worth the trouble. I breathe a sigh of relief, which is brief since I almost immediately remember the main reason why I'm here.

My stomach lurches at the thought of Peeta's confession back in the train. This is just not right. It isn't supposed to be, not matter how I feel about it. This is the most crucial difference between me and him. I always claimed thinking with my brain is much more useful than thinking with my _heart_. I can tell he sometimes doesn't approve of the way I function, but this is a part of who I am. There is as good as nothing he can do to change it.

After some minutes of internal fighting, I realize I have only achieved to upset myself again. Nobody is here to even contribute to driving me insane.

_Besides a certain blonde whose hair looks golden in the bright light of the moon,_ I soon enough add with a groan. The odds are not in my favor today.

I know I can still do it. I can still turn around and walk away—maybe run—from the beach. I can still pretend I never saw him half-lying on the sand, facing the black water of the sea. I can still put on the shoes I'm holding and tie the shoelaces like Katniss Everdeen.

But I don't. Instead, I find myself moving dangerously close to him without a single sound or doubt. For a fraction of a second after I make this specific decision, it is like he catches my eye. Though, his blue orbs remain glued to the scenery right in front of him and I can't say whether he has any intentions of acknowledging me yet.

I find my place beside him, yet as far as possible from him. When I see there is no way he's going to speak before me, I do the honors.

"You have to go back soon," I murmur. His brows furrow when he searches my face for whatever he wishes to find.

"So do you," he replies indifferently. Stubbornness was not what prevented me from saying _'we'_. It was trepidation.

There is a pregnant pause between us. The only sound to be heard is the waves of the ocean splashing down on the shore. It reminds me of how my lake sounds during windy days.

"Is that all?" he finally says. I chew on my bottom lip.

"I don't know." I pull my knees closer to my body and hug them. "I'm not sure."

_Silence._

"Katniss?" he calls. The determination is not present in his voice anymore. The only thing I can clearly recognize is despair. "Listen…I'm…sorry about before." He doesn't offer anything else. He sits up and waits for my reply, measuring at the same time my reaction.

I shake my head. "I really am. I didn't mean to scare you away. I just…had nobody else to talk to," he explains. "I mean…" He lets out a humorless chuckle. "…can you imagine me admitting to Trevor I've fallen for the daughter of my father's fiancée?"

I make a face at this. "Your sister," I correct, hoping to make him more self-aware than he might already be. He's the one to shake his head this time. He tightens his jaw.

"My classmate yes. My friend yes. My roommate yes. But not my _sister_." I part my lips to object. "You know how I feel about this. You do."

"Nothing more, either," I add.

"I wish you were right." He sighs. "But I really can't hate this."

"You're exaggerating, Peeta. Being in love with someone is…a _huge_ thing. It makes you sad and desperate."

"I'm not sad and desperate."

"No, but my mother was. She fell in love with my father. When he died…she couldn't go on…It made her weak," I emphasize the last word, making sure it leaves a bitter taste behind.

"And I'm not exaggerating. I know the difference between having a crush on someone and being in love with them." I flinch at his words. I can't hear them all over again. The urge to make him feel uncomfortable like he does with me becomes stronger and stronger.

"Have your parents divorced yet?"

"What?" he asks incredulously.

"Have your parents divorced yet?" I repeat through my teeth.

"Yes, Katniss. Having two wives isn't legal and you know it," he answers in a calm enough tone. There is no hint of irritation in his voice.

"So, your mother _left_ you right after she and your father broke up," I assume and take a pebble from the ground to examine it. "Didn't she?" I press without looking at him.

"She did," he confirms and his voice breaks in the end. I know I'm going to regret my cruelty soon. I somehow have to _stop_.

"I never liked her," I profess. I stand on my feet and throw the pebble in the water without waiting for him to respond. Turning around to look at him must be one of the greatest mistakes I have ever made. The pain I have managed to cause him in a matter of seconds is evident. I feel the need to laugh and cry at the same time.

I throw my shoes and collapse back on the sand with an embarrassing mewl.

"Katniss," he whispers pleadingly. "Please, look at me." I silently oblige. "Let's run." I examine his face in bewilderment. "Let's run," he says over and over again like a mantra.

"What do you mean?" He closes his eyes.

"Let's run away. After the marriage. We'll leave Twelve if you want it so much." I am suddenly reminded of the time when Gale and I were still eligible for the reaping. I hated hearing those words as much as I hate hearing them now. My eyes grow wide.

"You can't come with me, Peeta. I can't do this to my mother." He looks at me.

"We could do it," he insists.

"And then what? What kind of life do you have in mind? We run. We betray our family. We live with the guilt forever. Is that what you want?" By the end of the sentence my voice is raised.

"I only want…" He gasps and mimics my position from before. "Katniss, I don't know what else to do to make you understand me. Just…just give me a minute," he mutters and rubs his face with his thumb and index finger.

I know that if he starts providing me with arguments once more, I will break. My mind will be too foggy to function correctly and I might consider agreeing with him. I can't agree with him—not now, not ever.

I close the distance that was between us moments ago and take both of his hands away from his face, holding them tightly into mine as I kneel beside him. He gulps and wets his lips without daring to detach the parts of his body touching mine. The wave of electricity rushing through me is to blame for the lone shiver running down my spine without me having the time to realize it.

My name falls from his lips as he turns towards my direction to face me fully. This is the last thing making the heat in my abdomen increase at an uncontrollable rate, before I let go of his hands and, without another thought, press my lips against his, making him lean backwards in surprise. I hold both of his shoulders for dear life, while his palms hug my ribs at an attempt to prevent me from falling on him. Once he steadies me, he responds with equal fervor as well as more confidence than the last time. Although this is a path he has followed before, he soon breaks apart to look into my eyes.

"I can't do this to you, if you're not sure," he tells me with a sorrowful look on his face. My reply is nothing but a repetition of my previous actions. He will start making everything confusing for me again and I'm positive I won't be able to take it.

This time, when I bite his lip, he knows all he has to do is deepen the kiss. He carefully pushes me forward and props his weight on his knees as well. I let my hands drop to each one of my sides, but realize I have no other choice anyway. He captures me in a tight embrace, making it almost impossible for me to breathe.

His lips touch my cheek. "I am so going to miss you," he mumbles against my skin in-between shallow exhalations. My palm comes to rest on his chest as I slowly push him away.

"In five years this is all going to be a really tasteful joke. We'll get over it like we did with everything else," I tell him, my voice promising.

"I'm not sure whether I'm ready for it yet, though," he lets me know. "Watching you has been a part of my life for years."

I tense and wipe the sand off my clothes, before I stand up. "We have to go back soon," I state, recalling my words from before as I offer my hand. He takes it with an almost invisible smile and pretends I am helping him stand.

"We have to," he breathes with a long sigh. "Lead the way." Needless to say, there is no way for me to lead. We follow the coastline, the waves engulfing our bare feet.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry it took longer than intended, but I did my best to get this out as soon as possible. Some of you might already know that, but the end-of-term exams (from the 17th of May to the 22nd of June) are getting in the way and I don't think I'll be able to update for a while. Though, this shouldn't discourage you from letting me know how you feel.**

**I'm not entirely sure why, but there were some parts of the chapter that made me feel uneasy. I tried to make it as not-too-cheesy as possible.**

**I will hopefully see you in the next chapter.**


	15. Chapter XV: May

**A/N: Uh, I couldn't help it. I**_**had to**_**update during my exams. You're all so nice to me, even though it sometimes takes **_**ages **_**for me to update. Thank you, thank you, **_**thank you **_**for not giving up on me and my story. ****Your comments always make my day(s).**

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><p><strong>Title of the fanfic:<strong>House of chaos

**Summary:**[AU/New characters].What if Peeta and Katniss never were tributes in the Games? What if President Snow was dead? What if two people with a past suddenly decided to reunite? Would the members of the new family coexist or would they live in a house of chaos?

**Chapter 15:**(XV)

**Genre:** Romance/ Family

**Rated:**T (13+) for **language** and _some_ _violence_.

**Disclaimer:**I only own the plot and the new names of the characters. Everything else belongs to Suzanne Collins.

**Special thanks to (for reviewing):**_lolyy_**,**_CarolynBlossom_**,**_SWPeetaxKatnissAvatarTLA_**,**_loversofdistrict12_**,**_FlyAlone_**,**_DHPKDreamer_**,**_scoco_**,**_HungerGamesLover1020_**,**_TheAfterShock_**[Red and Cat],**_marizpanthursday_**,**_nia-ox, iam97, trackgirl1997, LiveandBreatheWords and sick-of-dreams._

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><p>"Prim, everything you and Kelsey might need to eat is in the fridge!" my mother yells for what I think to be the umpteenth time today from the hallway. I roll my eyes.<p>

"Mom, I got it the first time!" Her reply comes out as a complaint from the living room, making my mother let a smile decorate her face. She hesitates for a moment as she considers walking to where Prim is again, but soon realizes it won't make a difference.

"It's alright," I assure her when I approach her. "She'll be okay—she's not a baby anymore," I add. I almost frown at what a hypocrite I am. I do mean every single word coming out of my mouth, even though there are still times when I don't believe my thirteen-year-old sister is capable of taking care of herself. Maybe I don't want to believe it.

"Of course she isn't," she agrees, the smile never leaving her lips. "You and Peeta have fun."

"We'll try," I say. "Come on now. Dorian wants to see his sister," I remind her. "And he's waiting for you outside," I also point out.

"I do know that, Katniss. Just…wear something nice, okay?" I let a long breath escape my lips, which makes her narrow her eyes at me. I sheepishly return her look.

"Okay," I whisper, knowing that this is a lie. To me the definition of nice is _comfortable_. I'm not entirely sure whether she understands I'm not telling the truth, but even if she does, she chooses to let it go. She walks towards the outlet and I follow her to close the door behind her, before I wave at Dorian who's standing right in front of her.

Once they are both out of the house, I make my way back to the living room, where I find my sister and Peeta sitting on the same couch, muttering to each other as they comment on an outfit a woman from the Capitol is wearing. Tyler is also in the room, though, he's spread lazily over the other couch, facing the ceiling.

I approach him and place both of my hands on my hips, expecting him to get my message right away. He smirks as soon as his eyes fall on me.

"Is there anything I can do for you, little sister?" he asks and wiggles an eyebrow.

"I thought today was my turn to have this couch," I protest and try my best not to crack a smile.

"Oh, come on, Katniss. You know how selfish Tyler can be. You can sit with us," Peeta suggests. My eyes move to the empty spot beside him for a fraction of a second. I consider making myself comfortable beside him, but then decide against it, since it's not such a great idea. _Tyler_ might not find it such a great idea.

"I'll take the armchair," I eventually announce with a huff before I see Tyler grin in triumph.

I waste no more time and rush to sink in the armchair, the only choice I was left, with a loud-enough-for-everyone-in-the-room-to-hear sigh. The only sound that can be heard during the next couple of minutes is the muttering of the people in the television. I examine my already-bitten nails and frown once I realize this is a habit I was supposed to give up on. Feeling anxious as well as being scared of the completely unknown to me future were major parts of my life before the death of President Snow. After it, I simply had no reason not to quit each and every one of my personal stressing habits.

My peace is interrupted by Prim's and Peeta's complaining yelps.

"Hey!"

"We were watching!"

"Give it here!"

I suddenly can do nothing but fight with the urge to smack my palm against my forehead at their immaturity. Tyler has obviously turned the television off. What I'm feeling is more like satisfaction instead of appreciation, meaning that I am in no way obligated to be involved in their meaningless fight.

"What are you talking about?" he asks, his hazel eyes slightly widening in what he probably thinks to be an innocent manner.

"The remote control," Peeta demands with an unreadable grimace. He extends his hand for his brother to see as well. "_Now_."

"_Cooome_ and _geeeet_ it…"

Prim and I exchange a brief look. The amusement is clear in her eyes and I know this will do for now. After all, I can't seem to come up with any better idea to kill the time. The thought of exiting the house with Peeta earlier than normal is not only absurd, but also farfetched. The momentary glances Tyler keeps shooting me for the past weeks still give me the creeps. I'm not entirely sure what annoys me the most; this particular fact or me being completely and utterly incapable of interpreting those wry looks.

"Are you seriously going to fight for the remote control now?" I ask and they all turn to look at me. My question prevents Peeta from acting against Tyler, while Prim sighs at the latter's disappointment.

"I guess not," Peeta breathes. Tyler looks between the two of us with raised eyebrows. His brother always succumbed under similar circumstances. I raise one of my own eyebrows, too, challengingly.

"Just so you know, sister, I hate you."

I pause. "But you said you loved me."

He snorts. "That is nonsense. Go get ready for that stupid School Ball already," he adds with a cheeky smile.

"It's too early, Tyler," Peeta reasons as he approaches me and eventually makes himself comfortable on the arm of my seat. Then, he turns to address me. "Delly sometimes takes a while to get ready. Maybe we should go to school and wait for the rest to arrive?" he suggests, his tone questioning. I shrug, having in mind that it does indeed make sense, since the whole thing will be hosted in the schoolyard.

"I don't care. I really don't." His eyes fall on me as he lets a faint smile play on his lips. He takes the tip of my braid in his fingers and examines it, before I regain my senses and slap his hand away with a scowl. The Mellarks do know how much it annoys me when they play with my hair. It tangles irritatingly fast.

"I've never been in a School Ball before," Tyler admits, earning both Peeta and I's attention. "This must be the first year they're doing it."

"Perhaps," Peeta agrees. "I haven't been, either."

Well, there wasn't such thing for anyone to attend before. I keep the thought to myself and press my clenched fist against Peeta's back, urging him to move. When he does so, I jump from the armchair as well and finally make my way out of the room, expecting to hear his heavy footsteps behind me.

Once I realize I probably won't anytime soon, I decide that sneaking a peek is in order.

"I'm so sorry," he tells Tyler who narrows his eyes at him in bewilderment. "Want a kiss?" he offers.

"Get the hell out of here!" he exclaims, feigning disgust. Peeta laughs out loud and catches the pillow that's thrown at him.

So much for keeping them apart…

* * *

><p>"Dancing sucks," I declare out loud. The confusion is evident on my face, once I catch sight of Delly and Alexander. Their enthusiasm is not exactly unbearable. It is, however, unexplainable.<p>

"So much," Peeta mumbles as he hands me a foam cup. "See? We finally agree on something."

I frown. "I thought you enjoyed it," I admit with a hint of surprise in my voice. He shakes his head in response. "But you _made_ me dance. Some time ago," I insist.

"Try ages ago," he tells me with a thoughtful expression. Even though I don't reply, he is partially right. So much has happened in the last few months that I haven't had the chance to process it yet.

Peeta takes a small sip of his drink, averting his gaze from mine. "And…well…I never said that I enjoy it in general. I just…thought I needed to do something back then. I wasn't exactly very fond of the idea of you hating me," he explains with a nervous chuckle.

"I never _hated_ you. I don't hate people without a reason."

"You did have a reason, Katniss. My father is going to marry your mother," he reminds me, his lips pressed together.

I shake my head a bit. "I know that."

"In a month," he adds after the silence has almost started being insufferable. My gaze drops to my drink.

"I know that, too." I raise my cup. "What's this?"

"Orange juice. It's good, don't worry." I knit my eyebrows together and soon decide to believe him.

He changes the subject once again. "My dad has showed me what he wants me to wear for the wedding." He sighs. "It's nothing special. The clothes," he makes himself clearer.

"He has?" I wonder out loud. Peeta nods in confirmation. "It might be special for him." I take my second sip from the juice. "Is there any place we can sit?"

He scans the area with his eyes, but doesn't seem to notice anything different from what I do. We're already in a relatively quiet part of the schoolyard, meaning that yelling at each other in order to be understandable is not exactly necessary. I instantly realize the question was not essential for me to feel better, either. I hope he doesn't see how I'm trying to earn those considerably valuable seconds, while he searches for something to please _me_.

He huffs. "No luck," he says after a while.

"That's okay," I assure him. The minutes start ticking away and I can't help wondering why we even bothered to come. My wish to attend this Ball can be definitely considered an understandment after Delly's constant chattering. Peeta might have not pressed me about it, but he had made it clear he wanted to come. The almost pleading glances he had been shooting me every once in a while were hard to go unnoticed.

I can only imagine how ridiculous we look right now, keeping a great distance from the rest of Distinct Twelve's students, but I can't really bring myself to care about it.

"My mother didn't request anything special from me," I announce when the silence is proven to be unbearable. His gaze is surprised when it meets mine. I'm aware he wasn't expecting to hear me continue the trivial attempt for conversation he had started.

"That's…good," he tells me slowly and carefully, obviously unsure of the right answer. I shrug.

"I guess," I reply. "Maybe she got tired of trying to force things on me." I shake the juice I'm holding and hear the soft splashing of the orange liquid against the walls of the cup. "She told me to wear something nice today." I snort and lift my gaze. "I ignored her."

He processes my words and then blinks. "But when it's time for our parents to get married…" He gulps. "You're not going to ignore her, are you?"

My answer doesn't come straight away. I somehow sense that the point in this talk between Peeta and I is not about clothes at all. The weary look on his face betrays those motives to engage me into plain conversation are not real. Everything goes deeper than that.

A mix of clear disappointment and relief crosses his face when I shake my head in denial.

"I'm not." I inhale. This is the truth. I would obey her. "I'm not," I repeat and pause, before speaking one more time. "The fact that she irritates me sometimes doesn't mean I don't want her to be happy."

"I never said anything different. You should know I feel the same way about their decision," he rushes to say, in fear my judgment will be frivolous.

"I do," I assure him in the calmest voice I can muster at this very moment. "I'm only letting you know, too."

"Oh," he breathes. "Okay."

"Okay," I repeat, my voice barely above a whisper. It isn't long before the relatively peaceful expression on his face distorts. It transforms into one of both frustration and curiosity, his eyebrows slightly knitting together, leaving me no other choice but to turn towards the direction he's facing.

To say I'm surprised I didn't hear him approaching is an understandment. His footsteps are neither heavy nor clumsy like Peeta's. I am reminded of Gale and I's days in the woods, when we had to be silent so as not to scare the game away.

"What are you doing here?" I snap, once I realize _who_ I am referring to.

"Can't I have a drink with my partner?" Cato asks expectantly. The tone of his voice definitely differs from every other time he has addressed me. I shoot him a suspicious look by the time this particular thought crosses my mind.

"I'm already having one," I reply. This time, when I shake my cup, I do it more urgently, making the contents almost pour out of it.

He walks closer. "Besides," I start once he is standing right in front of me. "That assignment ended twenty three days ago," I remind him. "When we came back from that trip to Four."

One more step towards me. A look at my cup. One more look inside.

"Is that orange juice?" he wonders in disbelief. His mouth forms a thin, wry line as he points a finger at what I'm holding. I instinctively withdraw it from his view and mimic his cocky frown. Thus, I watch as his own deepens.

"What's wrong with it?" Peeta demands. He emphasizes each and every word separately. Cato acts as if he's invisible and attempts to give me a smile. A _smile_.

I eventually choose to leave Peeta's comment unanswered and focus my attention on Cato's unmoving form. I soon conclude there will be no change of heart.

"What do you want? Besides a _drink_," I say after a long sigh escapes my lips.

"I suppose you don't dance." I cock an eyebrow as if questioning him. There's really no use in pointing out the obvious. He looks at the dancing students, before Peeta decides to react.

"Are you honestly considering it?" he wonders in what seems to be incredulity as well as bewilderment. The strangely unnerving tone of his voice stirs something inside me, leaving nothing but anger in its wake. I almost immediately respond by glaring at him. It's not like there is anybody to _control_ me. Why would he earn such privilege without me giving him the required permission?

I follow Cato's example and sidestep Peeta's unintentionally challenging comment.

"I don't dance," I confirm confidently.

"Well, your friend Cartwright sure does." He makes a meaningful movement with his head. His repetitive efforts to be in speaking terms with me make me more than just uncomfortable. Peeta standing so close to us while watching the whole exchange between us doesn't ease the situation at all.

I blink and clench one of my fists to my side. "Just…get it over with." I murmur the words under my breath, a low growl emerging from the back of my throat.

"Not here. Not now," Cato says with a smirk. I bite my bottom lip to keep from crying out any kind of obscenities. I turn around sharply and thrust my cup into Peeta's empty hand, before I step away from him. Instead of holding me back with him, as I originally expected him to do, he simply stares at me without uttering a simple word. The disbelief, however, is still evident.

"Ten minutes," I spit.

"Ten minutes is exactly what I need," he assures me. I scoff, but still do not object as I follow him in the crowd, where I'm positive Peeta will lose us.

Even though Cato finally finds his chance to speak, my "friend Cartwright", as he called her moments ago, appears with a flushed grin in front of me.

Her lips start moving but I manage to catch nothing of what she tells me. The music rings unpleasantly in my ears.

"What?" I mouth, being under the impression that she can't hear me, either.

"I said…" She comes closer and speaks loud enough for me to understand. "…are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm—" I'm instantly interrupted by the sight of her pupils being dilated. I feel the muscles of my shoulders tense when I realize she's not looking at me, but behind me.

"Hello," she offers lamely, and then blinks at me. She mumbles something incoherently, before she raises the tone of her voice for me to hear her one more time. "I didn't know you had company," she says.

I bite the inside of my cheek and nod in response, knowing this is the best I am capable of offering at the moment. She looks around.

"Have you seen Xander? I was with him but…I kind of lost him," she admits sheepishly. I have no idea of where her boyfriend might be. I tell her so once I realize Cato is growing impatient.

"What about Peeta?" I sigh and show her with a curt movement of my head.

"I guess near the tree of the backyard." She thanks me for the already known to me information and turns on her heel to disappear from my eyesight.

"You have annoying friends," Cato declares with a smug sort of smile. I am tempted to turn his argument against him, considering in a matter of seconds the level of the people he hangs around with, but eventually decide against it. Stooping that low is neither necessary nor required.

I watch as he snaps his fingers one by one, before I catch sight of Delly and Alexander five feet behind him. She has a worried expression on her face while he explains something to her. They both look at where I suppose Peeta is and then back at each other, sharing more and more impossible to reach my ears words.

Without even getting the chance to register it, I've started making my way to them. Moments later, though, Cato grabs me from my forearm and pulls me in front of him.

"The ten minutes are not over," he says in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I know." I make an attempt to escape his hold, but he only tightens his grip around me. "Let me go, Cato," I command.

"Not so fast, Everdeen. You're not going anywhere unless I make myself _clear_." The last word is barely audible as he breathes it inside my ear. "You owe me."

"I don't owe you anything," I grumble and detangle myself from him.

I push a startled girl out of my way, mumbling a rushed apology in the process, and walk as close to Delly and Alexander as I could ever get. The former averts her gaze from mine, while the latter takes some uncomfortable steps back and forth. His face twists into a grimace of uneasiness.

"Is anything wrong?" I ask cautiously, trying not to sound too worried. Overreacting has never been a normal option. Delly faces me, but still doesn't look me in the eye.

"I was just telling Xander how nice it would be, if the Ball had a theme the next time," she says.

"A theme?"

"You know…like in the Hunger Games. Coal mining goes for District Twelve," she explains. Suddenly it is as if she's grown two heads. Images of naked bodies covered in nothing but coal while parading for the Capitol's sake and entertainment flash in my mind. Just the idea of it makes my insides lurch. She can't be serious, right?

The breathy laugh following her words confirms the opposite. However, it only manages to increase my anxiety.

"Nice," I repeat, but my voice catches in my throat. "I'm just gonna…" I push past them, expecting them not to object, but when Alexander takes my arm the way Cato did earlier, I can't help freezing on the spot. For the first time I note he's at least one head taller than me.

"Don't go there," he advises.

"Well, don't go there, either," Delly says as she takes a quick look towards the direction I came from. "Stay with us," she adds, though, being reminded of the Games is more than appalling to me at the moment.

Peeta's friend lets go of my arm. "You're gonna get the chance to ask him when you get home. He might talk to you," he tells me as if nothing was said by Delly.

"Ask him what?" I wonder curiously.

"I don't know, Katniss. I haven't known for a while now. He's acting so…strange…and he also…leaves conversations unfinished." He exhales. "Something's bugging him. All the time. I'm not sure whether he talks to his brothers or you, but he's stopped caring about letting us know." To my complete and utter surprise there is no bitterness in his voice. I realize I haven't ever been familiar with how Peeta's friends function. They do care about him.

"Then, why shouldn't I talk to him now?" I suggest.

"I would have wanted to have some time to myself," he confesses after shrugging.

He searches my face for a moment and almost immediately steps aside, allowing me to do as I wish once he notices my determination. Nothing more is said by neither the two of them nor me. Nothing more _needs_ to be said. I flee.

* * *

><p>He knows I'm here. I can feel in the way the atmosphere changes in the room, the air thick and almost unbearable for me to breathe correctly. I can see it in the way his soaked hands still under the cool water, before they start moving mechanically once more.<p>

I swallow any traces of fear or hesitation and take as many steps as I can dare to towards him, yet keeping a great distance between us.

"I'll be out soon," he informs me in the most casual tone he can muster. The sight of his hands rubbing roughly against each other, however, keeps my feet glued to the muddy, white tiles of the floor. His knuckles soon reach the point of turning a pale, sickening shade of white.

"What are you doing?" The hostility in the way I'm confronting him is there before I have the time to approve of it.

"I'm washing my hands," he replies.

"I can see that," I mutter under my breath, doubting his ability to hear me from where he is right now.

The sound of the water running is somehow relaxing, though, the way Peeta's hands keep moving doesn't ease the situation so much for me. At this point, I realize how selfish I am. There's something bugging _him_, as Alexander said, not me.

"Katniss, this is the boys' toilets." A tired sigh follows his grunt. He finally snaps his head to the left to face me.

"Your friends are worried about you, did you know that?" I ask softly as if I'm afraid he'll bolt from where he is and leave me deal with my issues on my own.

He doesn't answer. "What did you tell them?" I press. He applies more soap on his already clean hands and starts rubbing again. I huff in exasperation and finally walk close enough to grab both of his hands away from the sink.

"Stop that already!" I exclaim. "It is nerve-wracking." I wipe the soap from my own hands by using the first piece of cotton paper and hand him some of it, too. "Here," I mumble.

"I'm sorry," he blurts out. He has a weak smile on his face.

"It's okay," I answer. The uncomfortable silence is interrupted by another comment of his.

"Trevor and Alexander might be a bit stupid sometimes…but they're my friends. They're…good friends." I part my lips, hoping that something useful—_anything_, really—will come out. I quickly press them together again. "And I still can't speak to them," he adds in a thoughtful expression.

My chest tightens when his smile turns out to be more sorrowful than reassuring.

"You know, I'm okay now." I want to ask him. I want him to finally enlighten me about what he is referring to, but I still can't seem to be capable of doing so.

"If you leave Twelve, I'll be okay with it," he makes himself clearer.

My mouth forms an "oh", but the word is never really heard. This is what I have wanted to hear from the beginning of my decision. I have wanted everyone to accept my decision after I made sure I had accepted it myself. So why is this so different now that I've been finally rewarded? I don't _feel_ as if I'm rewarded. In fact, the pain follows its sickening way to my stomach faster than ever before.

"Katniss?" he calls and takes a step closer in alarm.

I clear my throat, showing whatever signs of life I can. "Y-yeah?"

"When you're gone, I'll find a way to busy myself. I have already planned to ask dad for one or two extra shifts in the bakery." He steadies himself by grasping the edge of the sink beside him.

"Good," I tell him because, honestly, I have no idea of what I should say anymore.

"I'm only hoping it _will_ be good," he admits.

"It will be," I attempt to assure him. "I don't see why it won't."

"Well, I sure know what won't be good." I shoot him a puzzled glance. "If we both stay here and you move on with your life," he replies, pretending to be indifferent. "It's not that difficult to get jealous," he lets me know.

Suddenly, realization hits me like a ton of bricks.

"You were jealous of _Cato_?"

He shakes his head. "Not _Cato_. What I said before. The idea of you moving on. It doesn't…it doesn't matter who it is…or who it will be."

I gulp noisily and nod, willing myself to understand.

"Okay. Is there…anything else you had in mind?"

He shakes his head.

"Then, I'm probably going to go home," I announce. And with that I storm out of there, following the path to the backyard, where Peeta and I had been before Cato's interference.

* * *

><p>I bent my knee and place my foot flat against the wall I'm leaning on, exactly like I did with my upper back and head. I could guarantee how louder the buzzing of the thoughts flooding my mind in only a matter of nanoseconds is than the music playing in the front yard. I close my eyes and make my best effort to block any unwanted voices inside my brain. Peace, though, is particularly difficult to be found.<p>

Minutes pass without me reaching a helpful conclusion. The only idea that can be formed clearly is the one of me not wishing to be home anytime soon. Prim and her friend will be there. Tyler might be there, too. I shudder.

"The ten minutes are _not_ over," he snarls. My eyes fly open and I wonder whether this is some kind of nightmare. But he's still there, walking to where I'm resting, his eyes shooting daggers at me.

"They are for me," I reply, testing the possibility of having hallucinations already.

"But you see…it's not like you have much of a choice now…do you?" He glares at me dangerously and I can't help being aware of the fact that he looks more alive and _real_ than ever. His expression has turned into a grimace much different from before.

_Disingenuous idiot_.

"Cato not now. I do have a choice. I choose you to get lost." Thankfully, my voice has found its strength again.

"You don't understand." He approaches me so our faces are only inches apart, before he grits his teeth. "I haven't spoken yet. I haven't let you know the choices you have been _really_ left." He breathes angrily against my face.

"Then, _I_ am leaving." He pushes me back to the wall.

"You are going nowhere. I want to hear you say you will compromise first." I grit my own teeth without even asking for a good enough reason to _compromise_.

"I could just fuck your brains out." The boiling anger inside me leaves me no other choice but to lift my open palm from the level of my side to the level of his face, aiming for his cheek. My eyes widen in a combination of both surprise and pain when he catches my wrist before it collides with his skin and twists it.

"You wouldn't do that," I say in a dull voice once he frees my hand. And he wouldn't. We may not be seen, but we can still be heard in case something goes wrong. His intelligence quotient is much higher than that.

He clenches his fist and presses his arm against my throat. The one side of my face rubs forcefully against the surface of the building. "But I'd do other things," he threatens. He increases the pressure and I almost choke. "Well, say something." I had never wanted to reach and rip that smirk off his face so badly.

I breathe shakily and knock my knee against his, managing to locate his shin. I do know from experience with Gale that kicking that particular part of one's leg causes undeniable pain. I had sworn to myself I wouldn't do that again, though, now the meaning of this action is nothing but beneficial.

"Don't do anything stupid," he warns me knowingly. He steps on my foot and withdraws his arm, giving me the chance to inhale properly again.

"Or what?" He takes a step back.

"Or that pretty _brother_ of yours is going to have to face the consequences."

"Leave my brothers out of this," I demand.

"Or what?" he turns my question from before against me. "Are you going to blackmail me? I think _I_ am already doing that."

"Besides…" he trails off. "I was talking about one of your supposed brothers. He's the youngest son of the baker, isn't he?" I flinch. "He doesn't get there so often anymore. His older brother replaces him on Mondays and Wednesdays."

A wave of _fear_ rushes through me for the first time in weeks. How does he know so much about Peeta and Darryl? And how does he know to use _Peeta_ in order to negotiate?

He must sense my confusion. "I bet you would just _love_ me to keep my mouth shut." He takes a step closer again and whispers, "What happened twenty three days ago, Everdeen?" I frantically search my mind for the answer.

_What happened twenty three days ago?_

"You said that yourself."

I gasp. "The assignment. It was the last day of both the assignment and trip," I reply.

"Good." His facial expression is completely unreadable. "And what happened…twenty four days ago?" _Twenty four days ago. The first day of the trip to District Four. The beach._

My heart stops beating. My fists are clenched so hard that I'm afraid my knuckles will break. My desire to get away from Cato instantly vanishes. Now I do know my choices.

I either compromise or destroy my mother's wedding.

"Tell me what you want me to do."

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><p><strong>AN: Let me know if you want me to try for an update before the 22nd of June. ****Your reviews truly keep me going!**


	16. Chapter XVI: May

**A/N: Hey, I'm back! Sorry for being so late but there was stuff getting on the way. If your feedback keeps me going, I'll give you at least a chapter per week after the 22nd of June.**

**By the way, chapter sixteen and four more to go;)**

_Do not read unless you're interested in any M-rated stories. :_

As some of you already know, the owner of Fanfiction is considering banning any kind of M-rated fics from the site. In my opinion, this is absolutely _ridiculous_. Every user/author/reader is responsible for the way they choose to spend their time online. If they feel that any adult or violent themes offend them, I don't see why they keep visiting the site or even reading in the first place. I believe everyone is familiar with the definition of "restraining". The authors are _not_ breaking any rules in general as far as I know. In fact, some of them have created such beautiful and touching (in every way possible) stories for us to devour with such powerful characters and realistic content.

_No_, I am _not_ talking about my own stories. The M-rated fanfic I'm working on at the moment is not even published. It _is_ fixable—only the first chapter is written. However, there are some really great stories out there. The writers have done a remarkable job so far and I would hate for all their effort to be wasted just like that. I hope you understand what I'm trying to say. You are free to disagree and you are also free to ignore this, but if you feel the same way as I do, please sign the petition to stop this. I already have (along with 29,000 more people out of the 35,000, which is the required number, even though it is constantly increased) and it doesn't take more than two minutes.

**Sorry for the long A/N, though, I felt like I needed to share some of my thoughts with you about the issue.**

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><p><strong>Title of the fanfic:<strong>House of chaos

**Summary:**[AU/OCs].What if Peeta and Katniss never were tributes in the Games? What if President Snow was dead? What if two people with a past suddenly decided to reunite? Would the members of the new family coexist or would they live in a house of chaos?

**Chapter 16:**(XVI)

**Genre:** Romance/ Family

**Rated:**T (13+). _Because if I had included my original ideas, the site would have wanted me to rate this M. FFdotNet sucks sometimes:/_

**Disclaimer:**I only own the plot and the new names of the characters. Everything else belongs to Suzanne Collins.

**Special thanks to (for reviewing):**_**KMloveya**_**,**_**iam97**__,__**TheAfterShock**__,__**lolyy**__,__**Alice**__,__**readface**__,__**Lgwater27**__,__**scoco**__,__**SWPeetaxKatnissAvatarTLA**__,__**katniss124**__,__**bookish327**__,__**HungerGamesLover1020**__,__**gopha**__-__**gurl**__,__**FlyAlone**__,__**Serpent91**__,__**Sailor**__,__**AngelsandTributes123**__[yes, they are:)],__**PurpleDiamond78**__,__**Amazing**__[Thank you! You will see Gale one more time, in chapter eighteen for the wedding, but not more than that. It's a bit difficult to include him in the story],__**kakitamariko**__[I write for my stories when I'm done studying. I'm only exploiting my inevitable breaks ;). By the way, don't worry about the language. English isn't my mother tongue, either—I know how difficult it can be sometimes. P.S. Thanks for all of your reviews! They're lovely!],__**youpagedme **__and__**Ashley**__._

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><p>Prim follows me in the kitchen and pulls a chair to make herself comfortable once she realizes I'm apparently not going to sit somewhere for her to join me. I move nervously around the room, being quite unsure of what I should come up with doing next. I open the cupboards one by one, meaninglessly searching for something I'm positive I won't find, while I feel my sister's eyes burning holes in my back.<p>

"Remind me," she starts suspiciously. "Why didn't you come home with Peeta?"

_This_ again. There is nothing to remind her, really. I was asked the same question about ten minutes ago and the answer came as an incoherent combination of facts and curses sliding through my teeth.

Once again, the reply she is seeking for doesn't come the way she probably wishes.

"I guess he'll be back soon," I mumble. Our eyes meet for a fraction of a second, which is obviously enough for me to catch the sceptical look in her gaze, and I clear my throat.

Although Prim usually doesn't press me, it looks as if she has different plans at the moment. For the umpteenth time, I wish her friend hadn't left so early so that she would be busy with more pleasant issues than dealing with me.

I take a glass from the last cupboard I open and fill it with water from the faucet. I quench my thirst slowly and carefully, taking smaller and smaller sips each and every time.

"The point is…Why isn't he here now?" she wonders out loud. I am more than just tempted to reply in a way so Peeta will have to deal with her later, though, I'm not quite sure whether this is going to be helpful.

"Do you want some water?" I offer, pretending as if she never voiced that question. The truth is that I don't know why he isn't here. I'm only aware of the reason why he isn't with me.

"No," she says truthfully. "Just…sit," she adds and gestures for me to have a seat one of the chairs. The pleading look in her bright blue eyes is nothing but my undoing. I silently oblige, still feeling her examining me closely.

Several moments pass without us exchanging words as I had originally expected. I am making as many efforts as possible to be prepared for whatever she has in mind in fear I will be too surprised to keep the information of the relatively recent events to myself. However, when she actually speaks, the way she's choosing to confront me doesn't differ from any other time.

"Did anything happen, Katniss?" she asks worried. Her tone clearly suggests that something has indeed happened, that she's not taking _no_ for an answer. Thus, I'm not struggling to give it to her.

"Nothing of great importance." I shrug. An audible sigh escapes her lips. She means to tell me what I'm saying isn't plausible enough for her to believe. I wouldn't dream of disagreeing with her on that particular matter.

"You have something on your face," she lets me know in a small voice. She reaches to run her index finger across my cheek and, as much as I want to act instinctively and appear defensive, I don't jerk away from her touch.

"What is it?"

Only when she adds more pressure, do I feel the burning on my skin. I make a grimace as I manage to muffle my gasp.

"Just a scratch," she replies before I realize it doesn't seem like _just_ a scratch to her. She leans closer to observe me, but doesn't demand to get an answer concerning where it came from. She knows that if I consider talking to her, I will. And I know this can in no way happen as long as Peeta and I share a past—even if this past is nothing but a matter of months.

"I should go take a look at it then," I suggest, wishing at the same to lock myself in my room before Peeta or Dorian and my mother arrive. I shake my head as if to clear it from the existence of any futile thoughts. My wishes are always impossible to be fulfilled.

Prim doesn't object. Instead, she lets me get up from the chair I'm sitting on and utters no further words as I hastily make my way out of the room.

Just before I come face to face with myself in the mirror, my eyes land on the prominent bones of my wrist. Had my complexion been as pale as my sister's, it would have undoubtedly bruised.

I feel a lingering wave of both relief and thankfulness crash over me.

* * *

><p>"Here," I mumble as I slowly turn around, handing the hot cup to Prim. She licks her lips and places the object back in the counter.<p>

"I'm not sure whether its taste is supposed to be like that. I've never tried to make it before," I admit. She grips the handle of the cup.

"It's okay. I'll let you know once I take the first sip," she says. I nod. "I think I'll go sit with mom and Dorian for a while." There's no point in her waiting to hear for my answer. Thus, she exits the room, leaving me to continue what I had been doing since I stepped foot out of the bathroom Prim and I share.

I swing the door of the fridge open, seeking for the milk for a second time, while all I really want to do is go upstairs and sleep until the rays of the sun filter through the curtains to startle me awake.

The sound of the bottle's glass slamming against the surface of the counter almost immediately earns the calling of my name from the living room. My answer of reassurance that everything's alright is followed by the all too familiar sigh.

I keep my eyes shut for some moments, silently reminding myself of how screwed I really am. I am so going to be humiliated. And the worst part of the whole situation I'm in is that I _agreed_ to be humiliated.

Before the anger has the chance to start boiling in my blood, like usual, I refrain from blaming myself for my nearly unexpected weakness.

_I'm doing this for my mother._

I replay that phrase over and over again, hoping for the negative feelings to eventually vanish. It is a somehow contributing factor to the management of this particular purpose, though, at times the guilt only exacerbates.

"Katn—hey, what are you doing? Is that what Prim's drinking out there?" Tyler's voice brings me back to reality and helps me get a better grasp on it.

He approaches me and doesn't hesitate to examine the ingredients spread all over the counter of the kitchen.

"It's hot chocolate," I reply honestly. He makes a grimace.

"It is _summer_. You'd better add some ice in it," he suggests, urging me to roll my eyes.

"This is called _hot_ chocolate because I want it _hot_," I insist.

He offers me a mischievous smirk. "That's what she said."

"Who?" I ask him, shooting him a bewildered look. His chocolate eyes dilate for a second. He rubs his palm over his face.

"Never mind, Katniss," he eventually says after a while of complete silence between us. Then, his gaze falls back on what is needed for the preparation of the drink.

"Delly told you about hot chocolate, didn't she?" he makes a guess. I rush to nod my head in confirmation. "I know. The drinks she makes are all delicious." He frowns, a distant look in his eyes. "Zoe's suck," he declares.

"Alright," I reply, the word barely heard.

I swallow. I feel his gaze on me as I move in front of the cupboards. It makes me nervous for an almost unexplainable to me reason.

"I like your hair better this way," he confesses. I mentally curse him for reminding me how much the absence of my braid irks me. I do know it is the only way to prevent my family from bombarding me with thousands of questions.

"Thanks," I mutter under my breath. I cough. "I guess…"

There is a relatively long pause.

"You sure everything's alright?" My hands freeze. Though, the shock is soon over, before they continue with their fast movements. If I chose to let anyone know, then it wouldn't be him. It wouldn't be Peeta, either.

He calls my name once more, making me aware of the fact that I haven't answered his initial question yet.

"I'm fine." I tap the counter with my three middle fingers and snap my head towards his direction to face him. "I'm fine," I repeat.

"Katniss, I…if you…" He shakes his head. "You know, you could talk to me," he tells me reassuringly. He nods twice as if to confirm the fact. I have been told the same phrase countless times before. Prim, my mother, Peeta. In reality, all those empty promises are impossible to be kept.

"The whole Ball got on my nerves. That's all," I explain after I decide what's safe enough to say out loud.

"Did Peet—" He stops. "Wait, wait, wait," he instructs repeatedly. His fingers graze the left side of my face before I have the chance to stop him. "What's that?"

"What's what?"

"I'm talking about…" He exhales as he tucks a strand of dark wavy hair behind my ear. "You didn't have that before you and Peeta left the house."

"You might have not noticed."

"I would have. Where did you get the injury from?" he demands, making it obvious he won't let it go without receiving a decent answer.

"The window of my room," I blurt out.

He narrows his eyes at me in suspicion. "The window of your room," he repeats incredulously. "And when exactly did y—"

"—Quit interrogating me, Tyler," I snarl. He looks taken aback by the tone of my voice. He steps backwards, while raising both of his palms up as if surrendering. His intentions were clearly benevolent, leaving me no other choice but to regret the way I chose to confront him. And I had thought the days of snapping at my step siblings were over.

On the other hand, I would prefer him remaining silent to him actually being_concerned_about my well-being.

"Can you make me some of this, too?" he suddenly asks with a small gesture which is soon accompanied by a curt movement of his head. I shoot him a questioning glance.

"I guess," I reply, my voice softer than before.

"Thanks," he says and without a second word turns on his heel to exit the kitchen. My eyes follow the same path his feet do in suspicion.

_Was that it?_

A deep frown is plastered on my face before I have the chance to do anything about it. There are some times I find myself wishing I could know how his mind works. This would undoubtedly be the most convenient way to avoid any unwanted incidents as well as conversations. I realize I can do nothing but hope the results of his deliberate actions don't throw us back at step zero.

All I know is Peeta and I are already below that point. I feel like I'm going under each and every passing day.

* * *

><p><strong>Peeta's POV<strong>

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><p><em>I'm okay now.<em>

I stare at my reflexion in the mirror. I don't recognize who _this_ is anymore. The idea of losing myself, who I _used_ to be instead of what I have turned into, terrifies me to the point of wishing for the person whose haunted eyes look straight into mine to vanish from my sight. His tortured expression is a mixture of disbelief, pain and discomfort combined by an unhealthy amount of self-hatred.

_If you leave Twelve, I'll be okay with it._

Lies, lies and more lies. This is what he keeps telling her and himself. So much for standing up for what he wants and what he believes in.

I watch him as he leans forward, grasping the ends of the sink to save himself from becoming one with the surface of the ground, his fingers clawing the sickening white of the dirty tiles.

He looks as if he wants to reach and engulf me. And maybe, even though he seems too weak to do so, this is exactly what he has done.

He looks pathetic.

My hands work on their own account, splashing water all over my face. The cool droplets roll from my drenched cheeks to my neck and throat, sending a series of violent shudders down my uncontrollably shaking spine. They travel to my collarbone and shirt, soaking every single inch of my skin being on their way.

_He_ doesn't care. All I want to do is launch myself into him and _hurt_ him, _break_ him into a million pieces, get him out of my head.

"What the _hell_, Peeta?"

Once my thoughts are voiced out loud, I am more lost and confused than horrified. That is until I realize I'm not the one yelling.

One of the toilets' doors slams shut with enough force to make me cringe at the noise it elicits.

"She's gone?" Trevor demands, a newfound urgency accompanying him. I shake my head for a moment as if to clear it, though, his presence is proven to be sufficient. Judging by his agonizing expression, he has been in there for a while. It doesn't take much effort for me to comprehend the meaning of his question. He's talking about Katniss.

_He_ doesn't care. However, the most horrifying part is that this time I don't, either.

Trevor perceives my lack of response as a positive one as Katniss is nowhere to be seen.

"Man, what are you _doing_? Are you insane?" The anger which was destined for me seconds ago is replaced by shock and a hint of sympathy as well. No matter how many times I attempt to work on it, my mouth won't compromise. There is no decent reply for him to hear at the moment. There is no plausible excuse, after all. I don't see the point in arguing what he saw or heard is not real.

"I was leaving." My voice is injured and hoarse from the lack of use during my mental debating. It is evident he understands those words don't mean I'm avoiding him. It means I'm tired and heartsick.

He runs a hand through his light brown hair.

"Delly opened my eyes. Three years ago," he tells me.

"What do you mean?"

"You'd never tell me about Katniss, Peet. Would you?" We both already know the answer, before I speak.

"I wouldn't," I confess without hesitation. I can't find the courage to lie. I've lied enough today.

The only person who knew—_really_ knew—about my interest in Katniss was my father. He was the one to point her out to me. He was the one to make her so special in my mind, even before she sang and all the birds stopped to listen. He was the only one who understood how I could lay my eyes on a girl from the Seam.

Right now, however, my father is nothing but oblivious. This is what he's always been deep down, behind the affectionate mask he was wearing. He rarely was there when mother got mad with us, and especially me. I'd always be considered the weak one, the one who couldn't intimidate her until I got taller than her and became a member of the wrestling team. He rarely was there to prevent her obsession with taking her problems out on us in the worst way possible from crashing over her. His impassivity hurt more than any other beating I had earned myself.

"Why didn't you talk about this earlier?" I murmur under my breath.

"Because I thought it was nonsense. I also thought it would be over soon. I believed you wouldn't initiate anything once the Everdeens moved with you."

I shake my head. "Looks like I was wrong," he says, then.

"Yeah."

"You scare the crap out of me, you know that?" There is a short pause, but he eventually decides to continue. "You drag your feet wherever you go as if you're the walking dead." His attempt at making a joke to lighten the mood falls flat.

"Do I?" He offers one of the smiles he almost never lets us see.

"There is no wonder," he muses. "So…"

"So…?"

"You're together?" I grimace. This is such a strict term for what Katniss and I have. The relationship that has been built between us over the months could earn numerous characterizations, but not this one. The situation is not as simple as Trevor thinks it to be.

"I have to go," I announce in the end, by the time I realize I am only managing to puzzle myself.

"Just one last question." A long breath slides through my lips. "It is a serious one," he rushes to defend his request.

I throw my hands in the air in defeat. "Shoot."

"Have you thought of talking to your parents about it?"

"Trevor." The warning in my voice doesn't go unnoticed. He is hasty when he speaks as though he's chased.

"Because if you're serious…and if you've gone _too far_—"

"—Trevor, no."

"Peet, seriously now. You live in the same house. You—"

"—I said _no!_" I hiss through my teeth. No elaborating is necessary on his part. I have been familiar with the way he functions for years to interpret his words and body language. "No," I repeat, smoothly this time. "Nothing like _that_ has happened."

"I believe you. Just be careful. If—"

"—I'm leaving." He stops mid-sentence once he is interrupted, staring at me open-mouthed. "And you're not saying anything to _anyone_ about it."

I flee before he has the time to convince me to reconsider. I'll do as Katniss wishes. If she's made it clear reconsidering is not a choice for her, then it's not for me, either.

xxx

The sharp blade of the pencil traces a soft, nearly non-existent line on the paper. This must be my billionth try in no more than half an hour. The chair is too shaky for my taste. The rays of the light illuminating the place are everything but perfect. My head feels heavy.

A loud knock on the door cuts off my train of thought. I groan.

"Peeta, it's me. Can I come in?"

I roll my eyes at Tyler's sudden decision to _ask_ before storming in the room without my permission. Privacy wasn't exactly something I've had the chance to appreciate, not even before Darryl got engaged.

"No," is my answer. Plain and confident.

"Alright." I place my one elbow on the desk and prop the weight of my head on it by letting my forehead touch my open palm. I rub my closed lids. Did he just say_alright_?

"I'm coming in," he says as if warning me and enters anyway.

"As if you'd listen to me," I grumble. He gives me a lazy smirk and hops down on the mattress of my bed, after he closes the door.

"Everything okay?" he asks. I avert my gaze from his and let my hand drop back down on the desk to caress the surface of the snow-white paper. The question along with the look he's giving me are not very good signs, since it is quite apparent he expects to collect information from me. Even if it turned out I'm capable of being helpful, I doubt I'd like to share so much tonight.

"Sure. Why are you asking?" My back is turned on him, though, I can imagine him shrugging the question off.

"I mean…everything in _school_ okay?" The way he emphasizes the word _school_ results in the instant tensing of my shoulders. Trevor's image invades my mind without a single warning.

"It was fine," I mumble.

"You two didn't get into trouble, did you?" he says suspiciously. For a brief moment I consider ignoring his comment. Later, however, I realize I'm going to have to do more explaining than required.

"Trevor and I?" I swallow.

"Peeta, I'm talking about your sister." I snap my head to his direction. "She tell me won't what's wrong," he adds, oblivious to the fact that my eyes are shooting daggers at him.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"_Okay_."

"Pee—"

"—_What_?"

He snorts, apparently trying to suppress a smile and waves his hand in front of him in a dismissive manner. "Is it just me…or are you a bit moody today?"

I huff in response, thinking at the same time how easier it would be, if I didn't need to feel the pressure of having to confess what he wants me to.

"I waited until Katniss made me my hot chocolate." He rubs his stomach. "It was hot."

"And you're telling me this because…?"

He shrugs. "She had to be gone for me to extort information."

"Is that so?" I scratch the paper with the pencil one more time. I hear a sound of confirmation from behind me. "Then, you should know I have no idea." I continue before he has the chance to doubt what he honestly should. "Even if I had a clue, I wouldn't tell you without her permission," I mutter. "Those are her issues."

"You're admitting she has issues." I drop the pencil back to the wooden furniture and stand on my feet to carry the chair closer to my bed. Although Katniss would never appreciate this kind of conversation between Tyler and me, I am willing to offer a part of the truth my brother wants to hear. I decide this is the only way of us avoiding entering dangerous territory. Truth to be told, she is horrible at all those diversionary tactics.

Tyler looks content as he watches my actions.

"I'm not admitting anything," I tell him after I'm settled.

"But you both got in trouble."

"We didn't get in trouble."

"Then, _she_ got in trouble."

"_Nobody_ got in trouble," I correct. The direction this discussion is going to baffles me. I have a feeling the definition of _in trouble_ is utterly different for him than it is for me. "And nobody got hurt," I say seconds after realization dawns on me. The fact that we're not talking about the same thing at all only makes me more curious than before.

"Hhmhm, you think so? She has this pretty scratch right here." He thumb runs along the length of his cheekbone, under his on eye.

_Pretty scratch?_

"What are you talking about?" He stares at me as if I have grown a second head. The word _disbelief_ is written all over his face.

"You left the house together. I thought you'd be together there, too."

"Not the whole time. She was with Alexander and Delly," I reply after taking into account her words from when she arrived at the boys' restroom.

He shakes his head. "Ask Delly, then."

"Are you serious? It is too late to visit her. The Cartwrights have no phone, remember?" I remind him. He opens his mouth, though, I raise a palm to prevent him from voicing whatever he might have in mind at the moment. "Katniss has had scratches before. From the woods. From the table of our living room just a month ago. Why does it have to be special this time?" I reason.

"She wouldn't talk to me about it."

"She won't talk to anyone about it. She doesn't like being taken care of. Asking her was just the wrong move, Tyler," I say.

"You might be right. But…no matter what happens…do not tell her I asked. She'll want to decapitate me."

My lips stretch to form a smile for the first time in hours. "Oh, come on. She's not that cruel."

Only when he snickers and starts making his way out of my room, do I realize I got it bad. In fact, I got it much worse than I had originally thought. Thus I'm not surprised when I neglect the sketch block lying right on top of my desk. I'm not surprised when I decide to follow the direction Tyler did moments ago, either.

This must be the first time I'm not knocking on their door before entering. I touch the handle, hesitate for less than five seconds, and carefully push my way in.

Some rays of the lights illuminating the rest of the rooms contribute to me estimating the path I will follow in the darkness. Even though Prim is not heard from downstairs, her bed is empty. Katniss is curled in a corner of her own bed, against the wall. My chest feels heavy.

I literally hold my breath as I shut the door, being also aware to not making any unintentional sounds. The possibility of my presence disturbing her is higher than one could ever imagine, so all I can do is curse myself for not letting even this stop me.

I extend my hands towards various areas, touching and gradually orienting myself inside the mute darkness. When I finally manage to reach the bed, I let my weight slowly sink into the mattress. The lack of movements on Katniss's part is the main reason why I refuse to suppress my sudden urge of being closer to her.

I gulp before I pull both of my legs inches apart from hers and place a firm hand on the small of her back which is turned on me. My palm moves from there to her shoulder.

"Are you sleeping?" I whisper. Once I stay completely still, nothing can be heard. However, the quickening of her already unsteady breathing betrays her.

My reluctance to reveal parts of my knowledge about her brings to light my wish to play along, once my eyes adjust to the new atmosphere.

My hands comb softly through her dark hair until more of her face is exposed to my view. I feel my face heat up in what can be nothing but shame by the moment I realize I have absolutely no right to linger on her skin after everything I told her. I wasn't trying to push her away, but I wasn't trying to make her feel as I do about her, either. She doesn't need to suffer what I have to deal with every single day.

My fingers cannot comply. I remind myself this has been part of my original plan, though, I can't help being as timid as ever when they ghost over jawline. Soon enough, I see I am not the only one crossing the line I had drawn—or _attempted_ to draw for that matter.

Her hands grab mine and hold them away from her.

"I'm awake," she states, a newfound tension in her voice. I can't recognize whether it is anger, anxiety or both.

"I was just…" I start justifying my actions, when I feel like it's no use.

_I was just recalling my brother's words. I was just making sure he was exaggerating._

This is surely not something to say, especially in case Tyler really talked to her about what he saw. I want to believe I would have held back from attacking her with probably pointless questions. Not that it matters.

"What?" she demands, louder this time. I suddenly grow self-conscious and crawl backwards, distancing myself from her. I wish I could have more faith in me to find the right thing to say. It is almost sad I don't anymore.

"Nothing," I eventually tell her. When I'm about to leave the bed, she tightens her grip around me and brings me back to where I was.

"Wait," she whispers. "You didn't come in here for nothing."

"No." It is barely heard.

"Tell me." She doesn't sound as desperate and needy as before. She is authoritative enough for me to obey her unspoken command.

"I guess I only wanted to make sure you were okay after you left."

"I am." She's silent for a minute. "You can go now."

"And you're not hurt?" My breath catches in my throat by the end of the question.

"Why would I be hurt?" she retorts as if this is the most absurd thing she has ever heard. Maybe it is.

"I want to sleep," she tells me from the moment she realizes I won't speak. She lets go of me and I waste no more time as my feet touch the floor.

I turn around. "Sleep, then," I encourage.

Just when I touch the handle of the door, I hear her voice again. I don't blame her, if she believes it won't pain me. This wouldn't happen to anyone else.

"I'm okay," she repeats. "Don't be back."

* * *

><p>I let out a halfhearted laugh. Delly and I haven't had a <em>secret meeting,<em>as we used to call it when we were little, on her back porch in years.

I had thought throwing pebbles at her window had gotten really old. However, here she is, her strawberry blonde hair a tangled mess, her socks soaking in the wet grass. Thankfully, it didn't take her long to answer. She and her sister had been the only ones awake like usual.

"Wear at least a pair of slippers," is the first thing I say. She gives me a wry smile.

"I lost them somewhere in the house," she answers.

"How original."

"Oh, shut up, Peeta." We stare at each other for a good couple of seconds before we speak at the same time.

"I wanted to talk to you," we say in unison. I blink.

"You first," I prompt.

"You might want to be the one to start. What I have to say will shock you enough to be incapable of speaking," she declares, her eyes wide.

"Uh…alright. It's about Katniss." She nods. "You were with her when she wasn't with me, right?" She visibly cringes. "Delly?"

"Peeta…" she calls.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Abigayle came by a couple of hours ago. And she kind of…told me that…"

What I hear next is like a slap right to the face.

"…You know…" I inhales. "Her _brotherlostthebet_."

"Huh?"

She clears her throat. "Her brother lost the bet."

I realize I'm not the only one lying today.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'm trying not to have favorites here (so all the parts of the story will be equally paid attention to—as well-written as possible), but I have to admit the chapters from fourteen to seventeen are not in the list. Though, they have to be there for me to move on with the plot.**

**Anyway, your opinion is what matters to me. Would you mind sharing your thoughts?;)**


	17. Chapter XVII: May

**A/N: Even though I don't thank you personally for the reviews, you do realize I won't stop doing it here, right? You're awesome! Some of you liked chapter sixteen more than I'd hoped! Thus, the new one came out earlier than intended—you give me incentive to keep writing!**

**Chapter 18: Katniss & Tyler (**ha! Don't be surprised, you'll see why;)**)**

**Chapter 19: Tyler & Peeta**

**Chapter 20: Katniss.**

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><p><strong>Title of the fanfic:<strong>House of chaos

**Summary:**[AU/OCs].What if Peeta and Katniss never were tributes in the Games? What if President Snow was dead? What if two people with a past suddenly decided to reunite? Would the members of the new family coexist or would they live in a house of chaos?

**Chapter 17:**(XVII)

**Genre:** Romance/ Family

**Rated:**T. _Nah, who cares? The fact that the fic is about the Hunger Games trilogy doesn't make it brutal out of the blue. There is __**language**__, though._

**Disclaimer:**I only own the plot and the new names of the characters. Everything else belongs to Suzanne Collins.

**Special thanks to (for reviewing):**_**fanaticfanfic15, UnderdogCareless**_[welcome back officially!], _**GirlOnFire2012**_[I unfortunately can't talk to you about your idea here because I will spoil the whole chapter for you, but there is a reply which includes your wish at the end of it. Scroll down once you're done reading;)],_**KMloveya**_[four chapters left indeed. It's almost sad it's over. On the other hand, I'd always wanted to mark a multiple-chapter story complete!], _**ZaraTHG, TheAfterShock, Poule15, Janerey, iam97, HGfanficfan, SWPeetaxKatnissAvatarTLA, Serpent91, HungerGamesLover1020, muzik-luvrr, FlyAlone, kakitamariko**_and _**MaidenAlice.**_

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><p>My pillow connects with the back of his head long before he has the chance to be woken by his peaceful slumber and, eventually, realize I'm in the same room as him.<p>

"Why isn't anybody home?" No answer comes, just like expected. I throw the pillow to his bed and kneel on the mattress, attempting to shake him awake. I scrunch up my nose once I'm fully aware of the situation I'm in, which is no different than what it might have felt for him last night.

"Peeta," I call. My eyes travel lower and lower as the rustling of his body right beneath the sheets is heard. The fact makes me as self-conscious as well as aware of my actions as ever, and I instantly jump on my feet.

His name rolls off my tongue one more time, my voice louder, my tone more urgent and impatient than before. I notice how blond the morning light makes his already thick eyelashes while his eyelids flicker, before I mentally curse myself for managing to be as observant as I am. I have always believed any kind of similar thoughts to be distracting and I have been distracted more than enough so far. That being said, taking a break from my internal turmoil of emotions seems to be more appealing than ever.

I take one step back each and every time his eyes make efforts to focus on my form in front of him. He looks at me as if it is not only difficult to recognize me, but also impossible for him to believe my presence is real.

I slowly steal a glance from what is over my shoulder, measuring my next move. It will take three more steps backwards for my head to touch the surface of the door. My attention turns back to Peeta.

"What time is it?" he mutters.

"It's late. Very late actually. We missed the first period," I reply nervously, my hands playing with the material of my shirt.

He nods in comprehension, but never really speaks. More words tumble out of my mouth without my permission. Once they are pronounced, though, they thankfully receive my approval.

"It is either me waking Prim or her waking me. But she's gone and I don't remember her trying to do anything. It doesn't make sense."

"You've changed," he notes. I instinctively look down, realizing he is referring to my everyday clothes. The words are pointless, so I choose to confirm them with a simple _"I have"._

He lazily brings his open palm over his eyes to block the light or any kind of image from view.

"I'll make us something to eat in five minutes," he says. I shoot him a bewildered look, even though I'm aware he'll never catch sight of it.

"We'll eat at school. If we keep going this way, we'll miss the second period, too," I reason. "Just get ready."

His hand drops back to the sheets. He shakes his head. "I'm ditching," he states as if I could have inferred what he was insinuating from the very start of our short conversation.

"Wha—why?"

The way he shrugs is not dismissive, but strangely promising. His gesture ensures us a normal exchange of words in the future moments inside the house, which complicates matters even more in my mind. What's there to say?

"I talked to Prim last night. Since our parents both work, she agreed not to wake you for school today." _So that we can both ditch_, I add in my head.

Anger starts swelling inside me. I'm not sure whether it is because of the initiative both him and my sister took without bothering to have my permission or because I don't exactly feel like ignoring their—or rather Peeta's—efforts to approach me is the best choice I could make right now. I can't help feeling as if my personal space has somehow been invaded. Even though the decision to stay here is mine, it is partially affected by the talk he and Prim apparently had yesterday.

He notices my torn expression and lets a deep sigh escape his lips as if telling me he wasn't expecting anything different from me. Though, the words are not exactly voiced and this is what irks me the most.

"You're still free to go, you know," he reminds me.

"But?" There's no way I would have missed his urge to complete his sentence with a _but_. Thankfully, he makes no serious effort to hide it.

"But I'd like you to stay. I feel like asking this from you is selfish on my part, but I have to know. I have to know it's not my fault."

The distress in his eyes prompts me to shoot him another questioning look. If only I could understand what he is talking about…

"I'll just wait for you downstairs, then," I mutter, not knowing what else to say to him. He slowly bobs his head in agreement. Even though I doubt this is what he has in mind at the moment, I take this movement as a hint to leave him alone for the remaining moments of silence between us.

I take my time in my own room, mimicking Prim's cleaning habits as I make my bed. During the process of dawdling around I recognize the all too familiar feeling worming its creeping way to my stomach, tying it in knots. Peeta's wish to be absent from school today is nothing but beneficial for me, keeping in mind what or who I'll have to face in class.

By the time I enter the kitchen, Peeta's already there, making me aware of how much time I managed to waste upstairs. It doesn't take too long for him to sit on a chair opposite from mine, after placing a plate with the sandwich he's made on the table, in front of me. I stare at it, simultaneously waiting for Peeta to finally speak.

"I couldn't make the pancakes my dad makes," he starts, effectively capturing my attention. My gaze meets his in record time, curiosity getting the better of me. "They need time," he adds.

"That's okay," I reply. "I should be thanking you." He shrugs, though, I never say the exact words out loud.

"Let's talk," he suggests after a while. My question from earlier is repeated. What's there to say?

I follow his example, taking a hesitant bite of the food in my hands, earning this way some extra seconds to myself.

"About what?" I wonder.

"I don't know." He makes a short pause, and then continues. "I mean…I _do_ know what I want to ask you, but it's only fair you benefit from this, too. Is there something—_anything_—you'd like to ask me?" The way he stumbles awkwardly over his words makes me narrow my eyes at him. I have no idea where he is going with this and I'm not entirely sure whether him getting into painful details is the perfect idea. My answer follows his question anyway.

"No," is the only word leaving my mouth. We stare at each other for what seems like a good couple of minutes for me, before I realize he's probably not going to be as direct with me as I wish he would be. Perhaps he wishes for it, too. Instead of offering a hand, though, I simply work on finishing my sandwich.

"Aren't you going to eat this?" I make a quick gesture towards his plate. He lowers his gaze as if just realizing he has food in front of him for the first time since we sat down. A look of disgust crosses his face, but he rushes to hide his discomfort. He chuckles humorlessly.

"Truth to be told, I'm not very hungry," he tells me afterwards. I would be lying, if I agreed with him on this, so I just choose to question him instead.

"Then, why did you make this?"

"I was hoping I'd find my appetite once it was in front of me. Not to mention that you would never eat yours, if you didn't see I'd made one for myself, too." I scowl at his reasoning. I hate when he's right about things I wouldn't dream of imagining on my own. My mind travels back to when I'd thought he only offered his help because I was charity. As much as I don't feel comfortable when admitting it, he has undoubtedly proved this is not how he sees me at all. He has his own way of respecting me, which is one of the main factors I find it difficult to maintain my often unexplainable anger.

I don't say anything in response, giving him the required time to sort out his train of thought.

He takes a deep breath. "Trevor knows," he declares.

"Trevor? What are you talking about?" I ask.

"He was in the toilets yesterday. He heard us." His gaze falls on the table as if he's ashamed, but he soon gathers all of the courage he needs to look me straight in the eye once again.

My brain does its best to function properly as well as absorb the information Peeta has offered. All I can think about is favors and threats. The fact that I have had those weak moments Gale told me to avoid doesn't only bring consequences, but it also makes me aware I will never stop owing.

I press my lips tightly together. I have a feeling Peeta trusts Trevor enough to believe he won't tell on us.

Peeta stares at me in disbelief. It must be a surprise this doesn't seem to bother me as much as it would normally do. The thing is when we step foot in school, his friends will have more _intriguing_ issues to talk about. I seriously feel like throwing up.

"Cato knows, too." The words leave my mouth before they get my approval. Both his and my eyes widen in surprise. I quickly attempt to suppress my urge to lift my hand closer to my face and cover my mouth to hinder any further unwanted phrases.

The disgust comes back as soon as he confronts his sandwich. Only this time, I'm not sure whether it is directed at it or me. All I want to do at the moment is let the ground open and swallow me up.

"How does he know?" he asks. His husky voice is accompanied by something I can't quite place. Part of me wishes to know what's going on in his head. Another part of me, though, is scared of what might be revealed.

His tone and the look he gives me as well are enough to reassure me he isn't repulsed by the reference I made.

"He just does," I reply stubbornly. I lean back to my chair, my shoulders softly rubbing against it, as I cross my arms over my chest.

"You didn't tell him, did you?" My lips part in shock. He doesn't mean it. He _can't_. Why would I be the cause of myself being so vulnerable? However, only when more words are spoken, do I achieve to put a name to the look he has been giving me for the past seconds.

"And you didn't sleep with him, did you?" It is a look of betrayal.

I had known this would eventually come, but not like _this_. The truth is that I never truly imagined how, when or where he would ask.

I bow my head, considering the choices I have left. I swallow and make no effort to steady myself when I sink in my chair.

"Katniss?" he calls, his voice persistent. No matter how many times he contributed in me having my privacy in the past, it is apparent he won't let it go now. I can't come up with anything to mislead or deceive him, which is what makes me absolutely terrified.

_Lie. Lie, _now.

"Yes."

"Yes, you will answer my question or yes you did do that indeed?" he presses.

"The latter," I whisper weakly. Suddenly, a dangerous silence that feels worse than everyone believing Cato—or even me for that matter—fills the empty room. I grip the edge of the table and prepare myself to stand on my feet, slightly wincing as I hear the screeching of the seat underneath me in the process.

"Katniss," he pleads. "Can you look at me? Please?"

I sit back down, examining my clenched fists, my nails digging painfully into the flesh of my palms. I am positive the pressure I add will leave temporary red marks in the near future.

"Just look at me for a moment and then I'll stop. I won't ask you a single question, I promise." By the volume of his voice, I suspect he's trying to control his choice of words as carefully as he can muster. It shouldn't be capable of breaking me—_nothing _should be capable of breaking me against my will—but for some foreign reason it does.

I do know looking into his eyes when being guilty was, is and will always be a mistake. His crystal blue orbs penetrate my gaze in a matter of nanoseconds. It is as if the dull grey of the clouded sky melts into the depths of the ocean, succumbing to the crashing waves tending to engulf it.

I shake my head, imagining how the words escaping my mouth will literally sound like worthless trash. The hurt in his eyes is adequate to prove the misinterpretation of my head's movement. He believes I refuse to confront him.

"Did he force himself on you?" His high-pitched tone sends a shiver shaking my whole body, while his question makes me gag. I am the disgusted one. I clear my throat to fix things up.

"No," I tell him, feigning disbelief. "Of course not!"

"Then, I guess it's not my fault." He pushes his plate in front of me, leaving me no choice but to avoid his eyes as he talks.

"You can have mine, too." The sound of his chair rings in my ears. "Thanks. You just saved me from feeling guilty," he adds. To my surprise, his statement is truthful, with no single trace of sarcasm in it.

Once I am all alone in the kitchen, my stomach feels as if it's tied in knots all over again. He had been guilty for leaving me alone, letting me go after the incident in the bathroom. He had been guilty after he somehow found out about Cato and me, when in reality none of what happened—or would have happened—is his fault. He had been worrying about me and I shut him out by hiding the truth from him. _Again_.

My forehead hits the wood of the dinner table.

* * *

><p>He's drawing. He's sitting on the couch of the living room cross-legged, his feet tucked carefully under him, his sketch block placed neatly on his lap, his hands working their magic on the paper, his eyebrows knit together in concentration just like every other time I've caught him in this position. His seriousness which is dedicated to a task a stranger would consider trivial and purposeless, has a weird way of amusing me. It appeals to me enough to notice how his eyes twinkle from the moment inspiration hits him like a tidal wave or how his teeth gently sink in his bottom lip, and sometimes the tip of his tongue. His facial features are too attractive for somebody not to notice, <em>really<em> _notice_, when he invests his time in doing what he loves.

Wishing to stay away from any uncharted or even dangerous territory and consequently hoping not to be a nuisance didn't last long. My real intentions are pretty evident now.

He must have heard me entering—he couldn't have_not_, unless he was too concentrated to what he was doing to care anymore—but he decided against acknowledging my presence.

"Peeta?" I say hesitantly when I find myself right beside him, my body mimicking his stance. "What are you drawing?"

For a brief moment, the fear of him staying silent and ignorant overcomes me. It extinguishes with four words.

"I'm not sure yet," he mumbles. Him being so surprisingly calm seems worse than him being angry at me. I can only imagine how easy and convenient the latter would be to handle.

I lean closer to take a look at what he's working on. The black-grey lines make it difficult for me to believe he doesn't know what he's doing, even though I can't exactly form a clear image in my mind of what the picture might be about, either.

My eyes remain on his face as I wait for him to make the start and ask me whatever there might be to talk about. Memories of us spending hours in the room he has his canvas and paints flash in my mind, at the same time reminding me of the role he has always played in this. I am the one who has to initiate any kind of civil—plain or meaningful—conversation, taking for granted how I used to embrace the enjoyable silence in the past.

"Peeta?"

"I think I'll do something for Prim. She hasn't asked me to draw those flowers she always seems to want in a long time," he says.

"Peeta," I whimper, startling myself by the despair coloring his name.

"Yeah?" He still refuses to look at me.

"_Peeta_," I grumble. This easily manages to get his attention. He is taken aback by my tenacity, his eyes wide. "I didn't do it," I confess. He simply nods understandingly his head and, much to my irritation, returns to his drawing.

My mouth hangs open, but no words come out. What is he trying to tell me?

I steady myself by holding a pillow of the couch so I'll be on my knees, before I reach and forcefully grab the block from his hands. His patient look only encourages me to rip the page from the pad and crumple it, making it completely and utterly useless in my fingers. "I. Didn't. Do it."

"Katniss—"

"—I didn't sleep with that sick piece of—"

"—I _know_, Katniss." I fall backwards, spreading my legs in front of me so they'll touch the floor when I crawl towards the direction of the carpet. The move gives me a feeling of security, keeping in mind I could always follow my instinct yelling at me to run away.

"What?"

"Well, for one, you're a terrible liar." His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes, but the slight curling of his lips is still there. I'm wondering how many times he will have to remind me of how pathetic I am at making up proper excuses. "That's a good thing."

"How can that possibly be a good thing?" My voice cracks by the end of the sentence. He takes the block from my hands and puts it aside, scooting closer to me. I still, frozen and scared of moving.

"It is. Lying isn't as nice as you'd like to be. You see it's not an option for you. That's beneficial."

I unconsciously sigh, but soon take another sharp intake of breath. His smile has already failed him.

"Katniss Everdeen wouldn't do _that_. This is why I'm also sure," he admits.

"_Katniss Everdeen_ wouldn't agree to be humiliated, either. He just…he saw us at the beach and he knows where you work and _when_ you work and that Dorian's the District's baker and he's engaged with my mother and—"

"Hey, hey, slow down!" My gaze smolders in his intense, alarmed one, while the only thing that can be heard is my panting. "What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I can't help you, if you don't tell me what's wrong," he tells me, a sorrowful expression on his face.

"You already _know_ what's wrong." He seems to be about to protest, though, I rush to cut him off. "The least you can do is act like everything's fine. Let me handle it and just…don't make it more complicated than it already is."

"It bothers me, Katniss." I gulp. "It really does."

"It shouldn't," I advise. "You know what's worse than this? My mother going back to the shell she was before you tossed me that bread. This is not going to happen again, I know, but I can't risk it. Prim has to graduate."

"She _will_. Tyler and I are both over eighteen. We could take care of her while you're gone. Cato's not worth it."

"He's not worthy of anything," I silently agree.

"Then, don't give anything to him. I don't want to pretend everything's fine." I'm on my feet before he has the chance to register it. I glare at him.

"Don't insist. And don't even think about standing up for me," I snarl as I walk towards the door, my back turned on him. His next words make me stop dead in my tracks.

"I wish…I wish you'd just trust me." I look over my shoulder, my eyes meeting his. "What can I do to gain your trust?"

I shake my head in response. "Nothing." The reply seems to confuse him, so I continue. "The only person who managed to gain my trust _fully_ was my father. Then, Gale. They both…left me."

I flee before I have the chance to act in the worst way possible.

* * *

><p>"You should know…Delly told me," he lets me know as we walk to our first class side by side, our hands swinging dangerously close to one another's. "About Cato winning the bet," he explains.<p>

"I should have guessed. She'd find out sooner or later. Jordan tells his sister, his sister tells Delly, Delly tells you and the whole school."

He shakes his head. "Something like that. Only, Delly wouldn't do that to you. She wouldn't do that to anyone."

I roll my eyes. "You think so?"

"I know so. She's not that kind of person," he reasons. _Don't hate her_, he implies. And I don't. I may not claim her as the most pleasant company, but she is the most level-headed merchant girl in school right after the mayor's daughter, Madge.

"Fine, I believe you," I mumble eventually, wishing for the argument to end already.

When we enter the classroom, Peeta's wary eyes follow me until I take my usual place. The seat beside me is empty and I debate with myself about whether asking from someone to take Cato's place is a good idea. However, I soon realize what a bad idea that would be, since it would probably have a negative effect on our deal—me pretending _he_ is the one who won the needless bet under the condition of him staying away from my family. Not to mention there's nobody who would comply and sit with me at the moment. Loneliness never really bothered me, although sometimes it is quite terrifying.

I am caught off guard when I look around me and see there are no curious or repulsed glances on me or even silent and obnoxious whispers. I had been prepared for a verbal or visual attack, but not for a similar situation.

Peeta looks at me worriedly and we share a meaningful glance, full of query.

By the time the teacher joins us, I feel this particularly strong urge to fold my arms in front of me, on the white desk, and sleep for the rest of the class. The minutes pass excruciatingly slow, just like expected, so when the bell rings to signal the end of the period I don't find myself surprised my long sigh of relief is much louder than intended.

Peeta and I meet, as always, in the hallway. This time, though, he is accompanied by his friends. My brows furrow in bewilderment, before he raises both of his own to prove he has absolutely no idea.

When Trevor wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me closer to the group of his friends, my voice seems to be stuck in my throat. Peeta narrows his eyes at him, his expression nearly unreadable.

"Our Katniss here owes us big time." My senses are quickly back and I struggle to escape his hold. He loosens his grip around me so I can keep my distance. "I mean it, Kat. I'm not _ever_ gonna go through that hell."

"Don't call me that," I mutter darkly. Then, I also register his words. "What are you talking about?" I ask after a relatively long pause. Peeta seems to be as curious and clueless as I am.

"Delly is the best almost-rape victim I have met in my entire life, I _swear_."

I almost choke. "Delly? As in Delly Cartwright?"

"That's me," she replies with a grin.

"I was the eyewitness," Trevor adds proudly. "And she," He points at Abigayle Stones. ", she was the friend who was absent from the scene of the crime because she didn't want to participate." He frowns, while she rolls her eyes.

"What was his role?" Peeta points at Alexander thoughtfully, skeptically. I might not be the only one who _doesn't_ find this funny, after all.

Alexander shrugs in indifference. "I guess I'm the angry boyfriend who just found out about Delly being almost raped," he says nonchalantly. "In reality I was left out."

"Oh, come on, Xander!" Trevor pats his back pitifully, receiving this way a death glare. "You'd never agree to this."

"Because that's complete bullshit."

Delly shakes her head in disagreement. "Not bullshit. That's called helping Katniss."

_This_ again. How on earth is this supposed to be for my sake?

"Yeah…I appreciate your help," I start. "But I'm sorry I have no idea what you're talking about."

Peeta stands beside me, obviously wanting to know the same thing. When they explain to us how Trevor and Delly walked together to the principal's office, the latter effectively crying her eyes out in front of him the day before, while the former demanding the expulsion of Cato Laughton right after the poor man was driven into complete insanity, all I can do is keep from screaming at them for intervening in my issues. On the other hand, they are the only ones who know about the bet being fulfilled despite Cato's wishes for the whole school to hear about his achievement.

"You did _what_?" I end up saying.

"Don't tell me you wanted to see that freak again. It was a one-time deal, after all, wasn't it?" Trevor asks.

"How do you know his father doesn't have enough money to overpower your complaints and accusations?" I retort.

"You underestimate Delly's qualifications. Really, you should have seen her. She was—"

"—alright, Trevor. I think we understand now. Cato tried to rape Delly. You and she reported him. He is probably expelled from Twelve's school. End of story," Peeta tells him impatiently. His fingers find mine and he squeezes my hand, hoping to make me as less upset as possible.

His words from yesterday morning repeat themselves in my head and I rush to detangle them from the very moment Trevor's eyes fall on us.

_Trevor knows, _he had said.

"What do you want?" I clear my throat. "What do you need?" I say the second time, considering it a tad bit less rude.

"Uhm…huh?" He looks at me stupidly.

"You did something for me. What do you need in return?" I insist.

"Oh, no, it doesn't work like that," he replies. "You don't have to do anything for us. It's like receiving gifts." I hold back from telling him that I am not particularly familiar with presents in general. They often make me feel uneasy.

"So why can't you receive a gift from me?"

"Because you don't give gifts to demand—" The bell interrupts him. "Ugh. Never mind. Let's go back to class," he says in fake enthusiasm.

They all walk forward besides Peeta who remains by my side. Delly soon busies herself with keeping company to his side. She pokes his ribs.

"You don't look upset," she states. Then, her gaze falls on me. She examines me closely until I entirely meet her eyes. "Cato didn't really win," she tells me, her tone half-questioning, half-confident. I inwardly sigh and shake my head as a reply.

"If you're still up to your offer of yours, I'd take it." She pauses, a thoughtful expression decorating her face. "I mean…I've always wanted to know how to braid my hair. It's more practical."

I gnaw my lower lip. "Okay."

"Okay?" I nod in confirmation. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a genuine smile spread across Peeta's lips.

* * *

><p>Prim takes Peeta's hand without hesitation as we start our usual walk back home. She steps forward so she'll be capable of facing me, too.<p>

"Are you really going to move to Eight?" she says. I nod. "That's not too far from Twelve. Of course there is always Eleven which is much closer and easier for me to come…" She trails off, making me chuckle.

"You won't be able to visit me for three more years, little duck. You'll have to be seventeen to travel alone."

"Won't you be back until then?" The hopefulness in her voice makes me grimace.

"I don't know. And you know why I can't be anywhere other than Eight."

"I know," she assures me. "How did Madge find our number anyway?" she wonders, voicing the same question I've been asking myself since yesterday evening.

"I'm always the last one to know," Peeta complains playfully with a slight hint of seriousness as well. Prim looks at him smugly as if teasing him.

"She only called yesterday, Peeta. I didn't even get the chance to think about a way of getting a job."

"This is necessary, isn't it? Getting a job," he makes himself clearer. I doubt this is a question he has wanted to ask from the beginning, since it is pretty pointless.

"I'll start hunting again. Hopefully, I'll still be able to trade with the butcher. I gather enough money, I buy my ticket and—that's the plan so far. I only need to find a job when I get there."

"You'll be living with Madge," Prim says. "I'm sure she'll help you."

I exhale, keeping my eyes closed for a couple of seconds. This time, when Peeta's hand reaches for mine, I don't pull away.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Brace yourselves…lots of babbling's coming. It would mean a lot, if you read this note, only this time.**

**First off, I'd like to ask you all a question. If you're interested in what I have to offer, remember to answer by reviewing or sending a private message. ****If not, don't mention it****.**

**I have already received three messages (two of them were before chapter ten, but they still count to me;)) to make a sequel of House Of Chaos. Of course, as you might already know, this is quite impossible. The wedding's in the next chapter and the ending in the last one. There are no Hunger Games, so there's not so much for me to write about.**_**However**_**, a recent review kinda inspired me to write about what another recent PM asked. It has to do with examining the missing moments between chapter nineteen and twenty (there will be a gap of a year and a half). The problem (not really a problem, but it might truly discourage you from reading) is that whatever I work on will be rated "Mature". The physical relationship of Katniss and Peeta might not be too detailed, so don't overestimate it if only smut is what you're looking for, but don't underestimate it, either.**

**So…would you in any way interested in this one-shot of 10,000-20,000 words? Please, let me know! House Of Chaos might be already over in two weeks.**

**Two other problems for me are those:**

**-The one-shot might be banned from the site. In this case, this is where I'll post:**

dandeliononfireff. blogspot. com

**I guess that's all. Tell me your opinion about the chapter/author's note, if you can and have a beautiful day or night!**


	18. Chapter XVIII: June

**A/N: Thank you for telling me your opinion about the previous chapter and the one-shot! You might find it weird, but I agreed with the part(s) some of you disliked. Hopefully, chapter eighteen is more pleasant for me to write and for you to read.**

**In case this is not clear while reading, the chapter takes place on the 29th and, later, 30th of June.**

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><p><strong>Title of the fanfic:<strong>House of chaos

**Summary:**[AU/OCs].What if Peeta and Katniss never were tributes in the Games? What if President Snow was dead? What if two people with a past suddenly decided to reunite? Would the members of the new family coexist or would they live in a house of chaos?

**Chapter 18:**(XVIII)

**Genre:** Romance/ Family

**Rated:**T.

**Disclaimer:**I only own the plot and the new names of the characters. Everything else belongs to Suzanne Collins.

**Special thanks to (for reviewing):**_**HGfanficfan**_**,**_**UnderdogCareless**_**,**_**Onirika**_**,**_**MaidenAlice, KMloveya, iam97**_, _**Lgwater27, TheAfterShock, anon, SWPeetaxKatnissAvatarTLA, ZaraTHG, theatergurl, GirlOnFire2012**_[I read your reply to my PM…oh wow. That was quite the compliment!] _**, Serpent91, nia-ox, CheezyBread**_[nine reviews! It is really nice to see people's opinion about the previous chapters, even though I have finished them! Thanks.] and _**kakitamariko**_[Oh, don't hesitate to babble. I love long reviews/messages/ideas!].

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><p>There is no wonder this is the first time of the year the freezing water of the lake can't be considered an unpleasant nuisance. On the contrary, it is quite refreshing as it cools my bare feet, while the nearly blinding rays of the sun bounce off its crystal blue surface.<p>

A deep sigh of longing escapes my lips once my toes cease to move and the small pebbles as well as the katniss roots my father and I used to collect years ago come in sight. All I want to do right now is forget whatever I will have to face once I return home and sink in the depths of the lake without any clothes on until all of the suffocating feelings and emotions vanish for good.

I want to scream, pull at my hair and curl to a ball in a dark corner of my room—my _old_ room in the Seam, the one I have missed so much—but the tranquility of the scenery in front of me won't allow this urge of mine to last very long. It never does. Maybe this is one of the main reasons why I keep visiting the woods, even though the money I have earned is enough for me to travel to Eight, and leave Twelve back, in two days from now.

After weeks of complete silence concerning the matter of clothing, I wasn't expecting my mother to appear in my room with a white dress neatly folded in her arms, asking from me to do the almost unthinkable. I'm aware I can't exactly refuse to oblige now.

The rustling of the branches to my left snaps me out of my reverie. My hands work on their own account long before my mind has the chance to register which the source of the sound is. I retract an arrow from the quiver right after holding the bow in my hands, my eyes full of alarm, my feet still in the water.

I carefully pull the string, at the same time estimating the direction the arrow will take, before I ready myself to attack once the animal is seen. So, when he comes into view, his blond hair a complete mess on his head, I can't seem to be capable of controlling the panicked shriek. The arrow flies, while its blade is nailed to a tree right beside him.

I jump on my feet. "Oh my God, Peeta!" I run to his side, my shocked eyes as wide as his.

"I…I only wanted to…" He makes a gesture towards me, swallowing.

"I could have hurt you!" I place my hand over my forehead, before I start breathing in and out to regain my composure. "H-how did you get here? How did you know?"

He rubs the back of his neck nervously. "It wasn't the easiest task I had to complete. It took a while to remember how to find the way. But I know you're here every morning and this time…I needed to come."

I drop the bow to the ground and turn my back on him, walking to the lake once more. We're silent as I watch him get rid of his own shoes. He winces when the cold water makes contact with his feet. I mimic his frown by the time I realize I can't even find the courage to remind him of my wish, which goes against sharing this place.

"I needed to come," he repeats, even though I can't quite understand what he's talking about. "I needed to be here with you," he adds as if he's on the verge of tears, making my heart clench. The feeling of longing for something lost—or something that _will be_ lost—returns and just like that, I wish I'd never understand what he's trying to tell me.

"Don't, Peeta."

"You'll disappear when we get home," he reasons weakly.

"Stop," I say. "Just stop, okay?" We share a desperate look, proving to each other how we wish for two entirely different things. He wants to get me to listen to him before it's too late, while I want him not to speak at all. We've already said enough this past month.

The nights of creeping into his bedroom to either wake him or find him already awake flash in my mind, so when the words leave my mouth they don't even need to be chosen wisely.

"I can't be in your room tonight. Prim found out about my absence this morning."

This had begun the first week of June, when insomnia started making me suffer all over again. I'd been pacing back and forth upstairs for multiple times until it was proven that Peeta had been in the same state as me. The first time he dared to step out of his room for a simple glass of water was the first time the thought of entering his private space comforted me. We only fell asleep together twice; the last time being last night's encounter.

His pupils dilate. "What did she tell you? Does she know where—?"

I shake my head, cutting his sentence off. "No, she doesn't. She only knows I'm not in my bed when I should be. She won't tell mom, I know she won't, but I can't risk anything. What do we do when Dorian wakes you the next morning to start making preparations?"

"You're right," he whispers.

"I am," I reply absentmindedly, moving my legs further into the water.

Some moments pass without any of us attempting to initiate any kind of conversation, but I feel like there is still something bugging him. The slight creases on his forehead betray how concentrated he is on whether he should let me know about what's on his mind or not.

He makes his decision before I get the chance to encourage him in any way possible, knowing his desolation firsthand.

"It is tomorrow." His breathing has become erratic. "The wedding." He turns his head to my side so our gazes lock, holding one another's like a lifeline. It is as if I am only informed about this so eventful day, which happens to be tomorrow, now or as if I haven't realized what the dress making me want to vomit means yet.

My own gaze finds the forest, travelling over the tall green trees. I listen to the singing of the mockingjays and pretend that if I close my eyes, every kind of dream—or nightmare for that matter—I'm living will be gone. My father will hold me until I fall asleep in his arms, while my mother will be as caring and loving as she used to be before he was lost.

"Katniss?" Peeta calls expectantly. My eyes fly open once more, since he manages to get my attention entirely.

"Yes?" It is barely heard.

"Will you visit?" He must sense my bewilderment because he rushes to make himself understandable. "When it's Christmas or whenever you find the time. Will you leave Eight to visit us?"

Suddenly, my throat elicits a weird sound of surprise. To say I'm startled he would ask a question like this, is utterly justified in my mind. I believed I had made my intentions clear from the very start of my decision. But then again, not everyone's inside my head.

"I don't know," I reply, when clearly the answer is _no_. I'm not so sure whether he notices or not, but even if he does, he chooses to sidestep my need to remain silent about this particular issue. In other words, he probably feigns contentment. I realize I don't really mind as long as we don't enter forbidden territory.

I consider offering to teach him how to swim, but by the look in his eyes when he comes face to face with the water, I infer he is too prejudiced to change his mind.

Though, I want to feel something different than the sun burning my skin. I want to be _alive_, not this dead corpse I feel like I am lately. Perhaps sneaking into Peeta's room hasn't been such a good idea, after all. Although I don't know whether I'd earn any hours of sleep on my own, the lack of it managed to affect negatively my mentality.

I feel like I'm not even sane anymore, so when I put pressure to the ground and leave it behind me as I dive into the lake, the feeling only doubles.

The temperature is like thousands of needles threatening to penetrate every part of my exposed flesh, while my clothes feel heavy, like a huge burden, on my body. I hold my breath underwater, knowing from experience that the painful lack of oxygen will pull me to the surface once again.

Peeta, however, is not familiar with anything similar. The movements of my arms and legs come only after I realize the blurry, frantic hands my eyes are try to focus on in the water as well as the muffled sound of my name coming from outside belong to the person who cares—actually _cares_—about me. The memory of him appearing in front of me out of the blue as well as the fear of my arrow piercing his skull is still fresh and intimidating. It forcefully pushes me to the surface.

I breathe in relief, my eyes half-closed as I let him claim he's dragging me back to the shore. I climb and fall with my back on the grass looking up, to the sky. I tremble.

"Damn," I mutter.

"Damn, indeed. You're crazy," he tells me, no hint of terror in his words. With a half heart and judging by the tone of his voice, I understand what he has been meaning all this time by the word _trust_. He trusts me.

His azure eyes appear suddenly in front of me, a smile playing on his lips, before he tucks drenched strands of hair from my wet forehead to the spot behind my one ear. My head feels heavy as the waves of dizziness threaten to overcome me.

"That felt good," I whisper, successfully ruining the moment. His lips part for a brief moment. He softly groans in disbelief.

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><p>Ignoring the persistent knock on the door, I stare at my white sandals, reaching for them and taking them in my hands. It can't be Prim—she'd just enter the room without any worries. It can't be mother, either, since she only left the house twenty minutes ago to meet her future husband in the Justice Building. Before we are all gathered at the bakery—the family and friends of both the Everdeens and the Mellarks—for the toasting, they are obliged to sign a certain license first. Although this is the only way for a couple to be considered married, there is no-one in Twelve wishing to neglect the chance of toasting the bread—a custom existing only in our District.<p>

The knock comes again, but it is also accompanied by my childhood friend's voice.

"Catnip, are you ready yet? We need to get to the bakery soon!" he reminds me from outside.

I sigh. "You can come in, Gale." This is the permission he needs to swing the door open in one single motion of his hand. His dark head is to be seen first. When he notices me sitting here, on my bed, without any shoes on, he finally welcomes himself in. He takes his place beside me, unconsciously keeping the distance he always has between us and places a firm hand on my shoulder.

"What's the deal?" he asks teasingly.

"What if they want me to talk?" I wonder out loud, my eyes looking at nowhere in particular.

"Talk?" he repeats, apparently baffled. "What do you mean talk?"

"I'm not exactly sure. But if Darryl, Tyler and Peeta decide to put some good words after the toasting…"

"Then, there's nothing wrong with that," he completes my sentence. I raise my palm, signaling I'm not finished yet.

"Prim would do that, too. What happens when it's my turn? How do I tell them I've hated this from the beginning?" I explain, seeking for a decent enough answer. Gale presses his lips together, realizing what I'm referring to has a deeper meaning than what he had originally thought.

"You don't tell them."

"How can I not tell them? How can I remain _mute_?"

His hand falls from my shoulder. "You can't. Don't be mad at me, Catnip. Not my fault," he reminds me. I instantly feel guilty about not examining my words before pronouncing them.

"Sorry," I mumble through my lips.

"Hey," he breathes. "Don't apologize. Not today at least." He smirks and I smack his arm with my clenched fist.

"When are you leaving for Two again?" I ask, hoping to change the topic even for a little while. He makes no move to object.

"The second of July. That's in three days from now," he replies quietly. I suddenly develop a certain interest for the sandals resting on my lap, while I feel his eyes examine me carefully. "You leaving tomorrow?"

"Yeah," I say. "And I probably have to wear those." I drop the shoes back to the floor. Gale takes that as a sign to stand from the bed and walk to the door.

"Posy's with mom," he tells me. I nod my head to confirm what I already know. "Rory, Vick and your sister are waiting downstairs. We'll go when you're ready."

"Okay." Just before he exits, I call his name. He looks at me expectantly, patiently waiting to hear whatever I have to say. "Thank you," I eventually say.

He shrugs. "For what?"

"For knowing what to say. For knowing what _not_ to say. For everything."

The wry smirk has returned in no time. "That's what friends are for," he reminds me. Then, his expression turns as serious as it could ever get. "I can't intervene in your issues, after all."

_A thing still going on with Mellark?_

It's written all over his face.

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><p>"You should wear dresses more often. It suits you." I hear Gale's voice somewhere in the background—maybe nothing was even said, maybe it is just my imagination playing tricks on me.<p>

I try to be as less indiscreet as possible as I scan the area for anything interesting besides my mother and the baker. They're both dressed in their best, yet nothing too extravagant or insufferable for me—and everyone else—to bear with. They look prepared, ready for what they are about to do, ready for the commitment that is about to change their as well as their children's lives, _happy_ even.

Everyone in the place seems to be wearing a big, genuine smile on their faces. They are chattering, laughing and _waiting_. Some of them had known a lot about the relationship between my mother and Dorian even before Prim and me, while some others were just as clueless. I mentally admit how grateful I really feel all of the attention is focused on who it _should_ be, and not on me. Nobody truly notices me—maybe except Gale who is standing right beside me, already giving up on any kind of effort concerning engaging me into normal conversation—and I can't help appreciating the fact.

The room is empty of chairs and tables for all the relatives and friends to fit. The fire in the oven is lit, while Darryl—as the eldest son of Dorian—and his fiancée are the ones chosen to be helpful with any kind of procedures.

I decide I can't do without speaking to Gale to keep myself from being driven into insanity.

"They're married," I say. He turns to meet my gaze and shakes his head.

"Not without the toasting," he replies confidently.

"But the papers they've signed say they're married," I reason. To my complete and utter surprise, he lets out a good-natured chuckle.

"Are you looking for a fight, Catnip?" I stick my tongue out to him, before I see him pretend he's hurt by my thoughtless gesture. "Okay. But if you're still up to it, I'm in."

I cross my arms over my chest. "Fine."

"First of all, there is nobody in Twelve who is married and hasn't done what your mother is about to do."

"Exactly. They do it just because they want to. It has nothing to do with sealing the deal."

"As much as I hate to agree with you…" he starts dramatically. "…you're right. I believe the first born child seals the deal."

"That's why I'm never getting married," I muse. He raises both of his eyebrows.

"Are you seriously still supporting this ancient opinion of yours? What are your arguments now?" he wants to know. Prim's blonde head appears from behind his right arm. She's clearly interested, too. I frown.

"She doesn't have any," she says in a sing-song voice.

"It's not that I don't like children. I have no problem as long as they're _other people's_ children. I simply don't think I could ever make it. Raising a kid can be a nightmare."

"But it can also be—" Prim's words are muffled by Gale's palm. We follow his gaze which lands on the direction of the bakery's counter. Darryl has called Tyler there. The latter runs a hand through his dirty blond hair. They seem to be arguing about something.

"They've invited the whole District," I grumble under my breath. "It's starting to get hot in here."

"It is," Gale agrees. Prim only nods her head.

"But they'll be making their vows really soon," she adds. "There's no need to worry about that now."

"Go take a breath," Gale tells me. I shoot him a glance full of query, wondering where he is going with this. He makes a curt movement of is head, showing me the outlet which can be barely distinguished from the bunch of people. "Get some air."

"Yes," I agree and push my way out of there as fast I can, just in case Prim or even Gale changes his mind and holds me back in place. _I don't think anyone will notice anyway_, I add in my head.

Once I am outside, I make my way to the backyard of the bakery, where I am sure I won't be able to be seen by anyone. There is a single window having the area I'm in as its main view, though, I doubt the Mellarks would be interested in finding themselves there, unless they have to take the wedding cake from the refrigerator and cut it. I shake my head in disappointment at myself for letting my thoughts drift to Peeta even now. He must have been the one to decorate the cake.

I realize it is the only time I'm anything but curious to see his work. I'm afraid it will bring the sickening feeling to light all over again.

A heavy sigh slides through me. The air is thick when it enters my body and fills my lungs—it almost suffocates me. I had never imagined the wedding of my mother and Dorian would be on such a hot day. My displeasure is nothing but exacerbated.

I'll miss my home and I know it. However, all I can do at the moment is to be prepared to stay away for as long as possible. My head needs to be clear—as clear as it could ever get under such circumstances—before I come back here to confront the demons I can't even put a name on.

It had taken some serious internal battling for me to realize leaving this place doesn't also mean leaving my family. My father will always be with me as long as I truly _want_ him to be.

The only thought comforting me concerning my arrival at District Eight is Madge's presence. I have always enjoyed her company, although we don't talk much. Now I'm thinking of it, it will probably take long—too long—to open up to her again. The issue of Peeta and I might never be brought up when I'm gone.

Though, it seems it can't be forgotten now. Now matter how quick my steps away from the bakery can be, I won't find a way out.

"Katniss, wait!" Peeta shouts at me as he approaches me.

"Did anybody else see me leave the bakery?" is the first thing I ask when he reaches me, his shadow hovers over mine, panting. I wait for him to catch his breath.

"No," he replies with confidence. "They didn't see me, either." He must have been thinking the same thing as me. No one noticing either of us is like an unspoken agreement, but we don't dare to voice any kind of similar words.

"But you saw me." He nods to confirm my statement. "You shouldn't have been here, then." He opens his mouth, but I continue before he has the chance to make any kind of complaints. "I know I shouldn't have, either. It's just that…"

I avert my eyes from his, staring intently at my clumsy feet. "I feel so weak and I'm sick of it. I can't take it anymore," I profess.

"You have to be patient." I lift my gaze, while he smiles sadly at me. "Just one day left and all of this will be over."

This time, I can't help blinking at him as I swallow. "I don't…" My voice is almost stuck in my throat, preventing me from speaking like the decent person I wish I could be. "I don't understand you."

His brows furrow in confusion. "What's there to understand?"

"You follow me out here…I tell you I'm tired of the situation I'm in, which by the way, includes also _you—_I would have never even talked to you, if our parents hadn't decided to marry each other. And…you're still _okay_ with it. I don't know if you are and I don't want to care if you are, even though I still _do_, but—" I rub my first two fingers over my closed eyelids. "Does any of it make sense to you?"

"Most of it," he answers. My cheeks flush in embarrassment once I realize this is the closest I have gotten to telling him what my feelings are like.

I give my head a violent shake. I have no feelings. I can't—_shouldn't_—have.

He speaks again, reminding me he hasn't replied to my initial question yet. _How can you be okay with the way I act?_It might have never been voiced, but it was implied.

"My explanations will make you feel uncomfortable," he says. "I'm not so sure what I can do to make _you_ understand."

I bite my bottom lip. "Why is this so messed up?"

He shakes his head. "I've always wondered about it. At least that is until I realized I was the one messing things up. The wedding…it was supposed to happen from the very start and we all knew it."

His words come like a stab right through my chest. Am I the one seeking to be punished? Am I basically punishing myself? I know Peeta hasn't changed his mind about the marriage, but I can't help noticing how exceptionally optimistic he seems to be for our parents' sake.

"You should get inside now. I'll come in a minute," I tell him.

"Katniss, there's one more thing," he rushes to stop me. He talks fast, almost as if someone's chasing him.

I turn around hesitantly. "What is it?"

He kicks a small pebble in front of his shoe. "I haven't said goodbye yet."

"Peeta, I'm not—"

"—I want to. I _need_ to."

"Peeta, I'm leaving tomorrow, not today. You'll get the chance to say goodbye tomorrow." But I somehow sense this is not enough for him. My assumptions are soon confirmed.

"Tomorrow's not enough. Everyone will be there and I can't say what I need to say in front of everyone."

"They're married," I whisper. "I hate this."

"Me, too. Just…just one last time and when tomorrow comes, everything will be normal again." There is a pregnant pause between us. "But only if you let me. If you want to," he corrects himself.

"Okay." I can't believe I'm agreeing to do this. I _don't_ believe this is me trying to control the part of me wishing for Peeta to stay. "Just one last time," I add for good measure, surprising both him and myself.

The pace of my heartbeat quickens inside my chest—it is as if it's racing.

Peeta takes a timid step towards me. My standstill gives him all the courage he needs. It comes more natural than breathing. And it scares me.

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><p><strong>Tyler's POV<strong>

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><p>"What do you mean you forgot to get it?" Darryl hisses through his teeth.<p>

"I thought Peeta was supposed to take it!" I yell. He places his index finger in front of his lips, gesturing to the crowd behind me. "They have the cake, anyway! What do they need to do with that thing?"

"You already know the answer, Tyler. It is a new recipe and dad wants people to try it. You have no excuse about forgetting to get it," he repeats much to my annoyance. "What are we going to tell him now?" he demands.

"How should I _know_?"

"You were responsible for it. And you…" He keeps talking to me, but I'm not listening anymore. My back slowly turns on him, while my eyes follow the path Peeta's eyes do from the corner he is. It is quite unusual for him not to be with Delly in a day like this.

My interest is amplified when my gaze manages to land on Katniss. She listens as Hawthorne says something to her. By the way his facial expression softens when he talks with her or even Prim, I see I have overestimated his moronic apathy. I have never liked neither him nor his bunch of friends from the Seam. The fact that they all remain so ignorant at whatever happens around them irks me to the very core in the oddest way possible. But it seems like he does have weaknesses, after all.

Katniss pushes the guests of dad and Mireille's toasting out of her way and achieves to create a path towards the door. It surprises me she's all alone—she and Hawthorne are usually inseparable once they're together.

I imagine the jingling sound the bell makes when she exits the bakery, but don't really hear it. It is a minor sound compared to the almost insufferable noise.

It is quite apparent Katniss isn't the only one feeling the displeasure of it all. Peeta's look transforms from nearly lost to anxious and determined. He zigzags through the crowd, muttering incoherent words—probably apologies—that can't reach my ears and follows the way she did seconds ago.

"Tyler, are you ever _listening_ to what I'm saying here?" Darryl asks incredulously. "If you want to be an irresponsible idiot, then fine, be it. Not today, though."

A wave my hand in front of him in a dismissive manner. "I'll go."

"What do you mean?"

"I'll go fix it. I'll go take what dad wants from home. I'll be back in ten minutes," I say, my tone promising. Darryl is too preoccupied with getting everything exactly the way he was told to notice there are plenty of ulterior motives behind my sudden change of heart.

"Ten minutes," he repeats warningly and turns on his heel without giving me a second chance to answer.

I don't need to be told twice. Instead of taking the long, difficult path and leaving the place from the front door, I choose the back door, which is the quickest way leading to the backyard. As long as I wish for it to be a simple coincidence, deep down I know what my little brother has in mind concerns our step sister. The thought only encourages me to quicken my pace.

I soon curse myself for being right. I watch them from afar as they speak. I can barely make out Katniss's facial expression, and I swear I can see her blanch. She somehow reminds me of the little children expecting to get their usual treat from my father and waiting for him in front of the counter for the customers, but having to deal with my mother instead. There would be no disappointment, but _fear_.

What would Katniss be so afraid of?

Completely and utterly consumed by my tangling thoughts, I look up to see them still there. There is this strange urge holding me back here, preventing me from revealing myself to him.

I am distracted by the idea of what I'm supposed to be doing at the moment and realize how late I will truly be by the end. I pull the collar of my white shirt away from my throat, my fingers grazing the beads of sweat forming on my skin.

I nearly choke. _Oh no._

I swallow as I stare wide-eyed at my open palms. No matter how many times I try to convince myself I could be in Peeta's position right now, right there, the thought feels just so _wrong_. The hands in front of me would never embrace her face in _that_ way—they'd never offer such kind of comfort to a _sister_.

And then it happens. I drop my numb hands back down, I look around me for help, even though I remember I'm the only one out here, I wish for the sight before my very eyes to disappear from view—but nothing changes.

Shit, shit, _shit_. They're kissing. _Kissing_.

By the moment they pull each other closer, tugging at one another's clothes, it dawns on me they've done this before. I have no idea—and I am positive I don't wish them to enlighten me—how many times, but they move as if this is their second nature.

I don't realize I've called his name, just like I don't realize I've taken so many steps towards their direction until the fairytale they seem to be in is destroyed, crashing down to a million pieces.

Peeta withdraws his hands as if Katniss's dress is on fire, while she looks me straight in the eyes, shock registered all over her face. I don't even have words for what I'm feeling.

"Tyler," she finally acknowledges my presence, her voice pleading. "Please." I shake my head when she mouths this single word. "Please don't talk about this to our parents."

"I knew it," I say instead of declining her request or trying to reassure her I will respect her wish. I make a little gesture with my index finger, connecting her and Peeta. "I knew I should have been more careful with you two…" I trail off. They both bow their heads like toddlers do when they're caught doing something wrong.

Katniss approaches me. "This isn't going to happen again," she promises and makes no move to deny what I've seen with my very eyes. "Can you…?" She doesn't finish her sentence. She doesn't need to. It is clear she's trying to tell me the same thing all over again.

I still can't believe how I've been suspicious, yet so oblivious all this time.

"I have to go," Katniss announces when she realizes the three of us staring at one another will lead to absolutely nowhere.

"We all have to go," I correct. Peeta remains silent, his eyes stubbornly glued to her.

"No, I mean…" she starts. "I really have to go. I have to make my things for tomorrow morning. I haven't prepared anything and I can't afford to miss the train."

"You can't go." This is the first time Peeta actually speaks. "Mireille will be waiting for you to be there." For a single moment, it is as if he has found the right, sensitive spot to hit. Soon enough, though, Katniss manages to wear her cold, aloof mask again.

"She won't notice," she spits bitterly. I look curiously from her to him and vice versa. Understanding can be easily detected on Peeta's face and I feel like I'm missing something important. This is when I realize in reality I know nothing about what has been really going on between them or what pushed them together in the first place.

I shake my head as if to clear it. Those thoughts can't be comforting at the moment. I sigh.

"Katniss," I call. "You'd better be there for the toasting. But…if you want to leave, that's your own choice." Peeta stares at me, making it obvious my words are an unpleasant surprise to him.

She nods. "Thank you," she whispers. "Just, please, don't talk." Before I get the chance to answer—or even _think_ of a reply to her request—she turns around and bolts. I watch as her footsteps become faster and faster until they reach the point of not being plain footsteps at all. She runs, and _runs_ and keeps running, and only when she's out of my eyesight, do I take a look at Peeta.

He looks back at me with glassy eyes and my breath catches in my throat. My lips part when—

"Don't," he mouths. I doubt the sound of the word has reached his own ears.

_Don't. Don't say anything. Don't lecture me. Don't look at me._

Katniss's words repeat themselves in my head.

_Please, don't talk about this to our parents._

Sorry, little sister. I'm not going to talk—not right now, not during the toasting, not this _evening_. But things are about to change once we all get a better grip on reality.

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><p><strong>AN: I would have given it to you last night, but the electricity went out and even though my computer is a laptop, there was no internet. I can't do much without it. Let's hope there will be no such problems with the next chapter.**

**I hope this wasn't too disappointing (mainly because we all picture a wedding in District Twelve in different ways). What do you have to say about the last paragraph? What do you think is going on in Tyler's head?**


	19. Chapter XIX: July

**A/N: Whoa, it looks like chapter eighteen made most of you hate Tyler. But see the bright side of it: Peeta and Katniss would never talk about what's been going on between them to anyone. Someone had to be there;)**

**I replied to all of you via PM because let's face it. The author's note would have been **_**huge**_**. (The replies for the anon/Guest reviews are included, though.)**

**Okay. I apologize in advance for any kind of confusion. If you have questions, don't hesitate to ask.**

**P.S. There was a mistake in the last chapter. Ingrid is Darryl's **_**fiancée**_**, not wife. ****That's kind of important.**

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><p><strong>Title of the fanfic:<strong>House of chaos

**Summary:**[AU/OCs].What if Peeta and Katniss never were tributes in the Games? What if President Snow was dead? What if two people with a past suddenly decided to reunite? Would the members of the new family coexist or would they live in a house of chaos?

**Chapter 19:**(XIX)

**Genre:** Romance/ Family

**Rated:**T.

**Disclaimer:**I only own the plot and the new names of the characters. Everything else belongs to Suzanne Collins.

**Special thanks to (for reviewing):**_**nia-ox, iam97, HungerGamesLover1020**_[Oh, yeah. I guess they have xD], _**TheAfterShock [Cat and Red], GirlOnFire2012, Lgwater27, SWPeetaxKatnissAvatarTLA, MaidenAlice, readface, muzik-luvrr, Guest**_[Thanks! But…how is Mr. Everdeen going to return?0.o], _**kakitamariko, alexanya07, 0Aud0, Janerey, FlyAlone, Guest**_[oh, you'll see what Tyler plans on doing…You just have to scroll down a bit!].

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><p><strong>Tyler's POV<strong>

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><p>The door of the kitchen—where my father has been always taking us to <em>talk<em>, where there is _privacy_during the relatively quiet night—creaks open. However, my eyes never leave the fork in my hand as I toy with a piece of the cake. It is pretty late and everyone must be exhausted from the day's activities. The fact increases my hesitance for a brief moment, before I remember my possible future actions will be anything but selfish. I can't back down now.

"Tyler," my father whispers as he slowly walks towards me, at the same time being as silent as possible. "You had wanted to see me," he adds in a matter-of-fact tone. I can't help nodding in confirmation. "Well, go ahead." He smiles, but makes no move to sit down.

"We should wait for Mireille first," I suggest in the same volume as him. He gives me a questioning look, probably realizing this is a greater deal than he originally thought.

"Why don't we move somewhere else, then? It's not comfortable here," he replies after some moments.

"Dad, no. I don't want Peeta and the girls to hear us. We're perfectly fine here." Once again, my words seem to startle him at first, even though he soon appears as understanding as I'd wished for him to be from the beginning.

I discreetly give my head a small shake. Getting my hopes up will not be necessarily practical. I haven't even started yet.

"I told Mireille I'd be back soon, Ty. I should probably call her here—she doesn't know you want her, too."

"Yes. She has to be here as well. That's important," I repeat my words from minutes ago. He stares at me for a good couple of seconds in query. I haven't been used to talking to him lately—not since Mireille and her daughters moved here. Sharing some useful words while my mother was present was particularly seldom, too.

"I'll call her, then," he eventually assures me.

When three whole minutes have passed and they're both in the same room as me, Mireille seated beside me while dad across from us, realization of what I am about to do finally manages to dawn on me.

They—Katniss and Peeta—might hate me for actually betraying them, but they're both worth a try, even if it turns out to be pitiful.

"What is it that you want to tell us and couldn't possibly wait for tomorrow morning, Tyler?" It's not such a difficult task to detect the playfulness in my father's slightly teasing voice. I nearly hate I will have to be the one to kill the mood. I let out a deep sigh.

"I don't…I don't know where to start from," I admit. Mireille surprises me by touching the back of my palm with her own. She offers an easy, genuine smile.

"You don't need to _try_, Tyler," she whispers, then clears her throat, making sure she's heard by both me and her husband. "Just say whatever you need to. We won't judge you," she attempts to assure me, which has almost no effect on me. I nod anyway, before I finally decide to speak.

"You might not like what I have to say," I warn her, turning my attention to my father to convince myself Mireille is not the only one following me.

"Start from the beginning," he encourages me with a warm smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. This isn't always a good sign, though, I'm aware there's nothing _good_ in this situation.

The words leave my mouth before I get the chance to control them.

"Your daughter has been against this wedding," I tell Mireille. She looks taken aback for a moment. Seconds later, she achieves to regain her usual calmness.

"I know she had been against it when we first came. But you all made her change her mind, didn't you?" Her tone is soft when she finishes her question. I realize she offers her words as compliments to the Mellark family, even though she has no idea how much we have really changed her—or rather how much my _little brother_ has.

"That's the point. There is no—" I breathe. "There is no _past_ tense. She _has_ been against the wedding. She still is. This time it's not about morals and dignity, Mireille. It's about something she can't control."

She doesn't need to ask further questions to make sure we're talking about her eldest daughter, and not Primrose. "Katniss has always been stronger than everyone I know. I admire her for this and I trust her choices. I'm afraid I will have to disagree with you. I know it's not always beneficial for her, but she has learned to protect herself from both physical and emotional pain. She's a very tolerant person," she reasons confidently.

"Exactly." I blink at her and turn to face her completely. "But what if this shield she has managed to create breaks? What if it is already broken? What if she's trying to make everything the way it used t—"

"Tyler, what are you trying to tell us?" my father cuts me off.

I raise my left palm, signaling him to stop. "Hold on, dad." _It's not your turn yet._ I frown at my own thoughts as my hand drops back at the table.

"Have you talked to her during all those months that have passed?" My gaze meets Mireille's again.

She seems to falter at my choice of words. Her mask vanishes, her smile fails her. "I had tried. She wasn't as assertive as I'd wished her to be, but I couldn't really blame her," she whispers sadly. "She has learned to be self-dependent." The exhaustion in her eyes every time she pronounces the phrase 'she has _learned'_ doesn't go unnoticed. Moments later, I recognize it to be hurt, but disappointment as well. Mireille is not disappointed at Katniss's behavior. She's disappointed at herself, which complicates matters even more, confusing me as well.

"But have you talked to her? She might have not uttered a single word, but she would have listened. Do you trust her so much to know she wouldn't find comfort in what she shouldn't?" The terror is evident in her blue eyes. "She can distinguish right from wrong. She's not a baby—in fact, she's eighteen. Though, we go back to what I first told you. What if it's something she just _can't_ _control_?"

"_Tyler_—" dad repeats once he sees how much the conversation upsets her.

"—Dad, let me talk to Mireille," I grunt through my teeth persistently.

"Is she in trouble?" she asks me in despair, a hand barely ghosting over my forearm. I bring my other hand to my eyes, softly rubbing my eyelids once they're closed.

"I'm sorry," I mutter. "I'm really sorry I have to be the one to do this. I really like you, Mireille," I reply honestly. "And I don't want to hurt you. With all the respect, Peeta would have known sooner than you, had Katniss been involved…" I shake my head, leaving my sentence unfinished.

"Peeta?" my father speaks again, his tone questioning. _I really hate myself right now._

"Did you really tell him about your relationship with Mireille before you married mother when he was in kindergarten?" I ask him. His pupils dilate momentarily. He takes a better hold of himself and clears his throat, but no words come out in the end, regardless what I had expected from him. "Dad?"

He shakes his head. "Peeta was five. He can't possibly remember what was told thirteen years ago." It is apparent he still doesn't believe it; he doesn't want to, he can't.

Instead of proving him wrong, I voice the rest of my knowledge about that day.

"You showed Katniss to him. Katniss had been important to him ever since—he had been watching her. Did you know that?" He opens his mouth. "And did you know he has drawn thousands of pictures of her in his sketch block? The _detail_…"

"Tyler," he starts, my name a dangerous warning on his lips. "Now is not the time for this. There is also tomorrow morning. Tomorrow afternoon, evening."

I panic as I watch him stand. "There is no time.."

"Wait a minute, Dorian," Mireille says. He lowers himself on the seat. _Thank you._

I take a deep breath and repeat my sentence. "Katniss is leaving tomorrow morning. You have to talk to her before then. It is your last chance to make up for everything you might have regretted, Mireille." Judging from the effect this has on her, I realize she really _is_ guilty.

"What should I tell her?" It's not clear whether she's talking to us or herself. The only thing I'm aware of is her voicing her thoughts out loud. "What should I do for her to listen to me?"

"Something drastic," I offer.

She chuckles sadly. "There is nothing drastic for Katniss. The last thing I want to do is make her hate me before she's gone. I want us to be good." Mireille sinks in her chair and unconsciously pulls herself as far from me and my father as possible. It is as if she's attempting to shut the world out. At this moment, I realize the image I have for Katniss in my mind is an exact replica of her mother.

"Yes," I insist. "You want to be the caring mother, not the aloof mother, don't you?" I hardly believe they don't interpret this as a lecture—lecturing them is not precisely what I have been intending on doing. I can already sense my father wishes to intervene one more time, though, he somehow manages to suppress his urge.

Suddenly, I feel like I have to give him something to be concerned about, which has also been part of my initial purpose.

"What about you, dad? Didn't you tell us you wanted us to do what we like after everything with mother was over?"

"Of course," he says. "I would still hate to see you unhappy, son," he adds reassuringly.

"Darryl is not unhappy. I'll be alright, too. But Peeta is different. He's a lot like you." I catch the bewildered look on his face and don't take long to keep going. "You married mother, even though you didn't love her."

"That's not true," he objects. "I cared about her. I still want her to be okay, Tyler. She's the mother of my sons."

"Caring about someone is different than loving them the way you've loved Mireille all these years," I explain, although I feel like there's really no point in me doing so. I've been taught everything I know by _him_.

"What's bothering Peeta?" he asks, finally getting to the point of the conversation.

"He's a lot like you," I say again. "He can marry someone from town, have a bunch of kids with her and live his happily ever after. Isn't this what you thought when you married mother?"

This can't be the easiest question he has been asked, considering how much time he takes to answer. I don't ever recall father being speechless in his life. Either he finds the question too hard to reply to or he is too ashamed to admit what I'm asking is partly true.

"My marriage with your mother wasn't as rushed as you believe it to be, Tyler."

"But it was unsuccessful."

"Not every wedding is successful." _Touché_.

I exhale. "Look, dad. I'm not gonna lie. Mother angered me and Darryl and disappointed Peeta. _A lot_. I personally will never forgive her."

"She's your mother, Tyl—"

"—I do not _care_. I don't, okay? I don't want to see her again. I just don't want Peeta's children to feel this way about their parents. _Both_ of their parents."

The hurt is evident and immediate as it appears on his facial features. _Am I really doing this?_I've kept this to myself for _so_ long.

"She always had her way of manipulating us." There's no use in me explaining we're talking about his previous wife. "But the way she used to manipulate _you_ and turn you against us felt even worse. You weren't there when we needed you. Everything—and I mean _everything_—we did with you was in secret. Secret talks, secret hugs, secret presents. When she found out, you'd always try to reassure her things were going to be fine."

He doesn't answer. "I once heard Katniss refer to her as a witch." Mireille gasps by the time the name of her daughter is pronounced. "I couldn't help wondering whether she had you under a kind of a spell ever since," I confess, letting out a humorless chuckle. There is absolutely nothing to laugh at.

Father doesn't dismiss any of my accusations. He doesn't address them, either, though.

"Peeta might be sensitive, Tyler, but he's nothing like me. He's cleverer than this. He usually corresponds to every challenge he comes across correctly. You truly do underestimate him," is the first thing he tells me after a while.

"Do I?" I shake my head. "I'm confusing you both. I'm not here to lecture you. I'm here to ask a favor from you."

"Of course," Mireille murmurs. Her husband nods.

"Help me," I say. "Help me convince Peeta and Katniss they need to stop sacrificing so many things it will be impossible for them to have in the future." They look almost as puzzled as expected—probably more.

And then, I do it. A mixture of understanding and terror is registered once my father comprehends the meaning of my words ever since he and Mireille entered the kitchen.

"It doesn't matter what you want your children's relationship to be. Even if Katniss leaves, she and Peeta won't consider themselves family—they're not. And if you want my opinion, then here it is; it would be ridiculous, if they thought otherwise."

"Peet…he still…"

"You knew that dad, didn't you?"

"There was no response," he mutters under his breath. _There was no response on Katniss's part._He keeps this part to himself.

"Well, there is now." His eyes are stunned. "I'm not lying."

"Are you sure about what you're saying, Tyler?"

"I'm not lying," I emphasize each and every word separately for him to hear. "I'm sure."

"Dorian, can you please tell me what's going on?" This must be the first time I've seen Mireille so demanding and authoritative.

"It's true," I insist. "You just haven't been paying attention."

He buries his face in his palms, shaking his head as realization hits him like a ton of bricks.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

"You shouldn't be apologizing to us, dad. Peeta will still be here in the morning."

"_Dorian_." He lifts slowly lifts his gaze to meet hers, his hands numb on the table.

"We'll talk about this later, Mireille. Tyler…is there anything else?" he asks, obviously hoping the answer is no.

"Just do something drastic," I repeat my words from earlier.

"Such as?" Mireille wants to know. There is no way this will make sense to her. I spill the beans anyway.

"A wedding annulment." Her eyes couldn't get any wider.

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><p><strong>Peeta's POV<strong>

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><p>"Madge has a phone, little duck," Katniss reminds her sister, while the latter doesn't dare to let her escape their tight embrace. Primrose is neither stupid nor completely clueless. There must have been a point when she realized the possibility of her sister returning to Twelve soon is not very high.<p>

I watch them from the corner of the living room, a hand resting—or rather gripping—on the arm of the couch for support. I refuse to believe Katniss is not upset by her mother's absence while she is preparing herself to leave her home. My father and brother are in the same room as us. Even Darryl and his fiancée came by this morning to say goodbye to her and wish her luck with her life in the new District.

"Then, you'll call every day." It's not a suggestion or a plea. It's a demand which miraculously manages to bring a weak, yet evident smile on Katniss's face.

"I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise," she answers. Prim's unpleasant grimace is still there.

"_Promise_ you'll call every day."

"Alright," Katniss breathes in defeat. "I promise." Her sister's arms loose around her form until the two sisters have completely detangled themselves from each other.

Katniss deliberately chooses not to leave me for the end. We are what our parents have wanted us to be, after all, even if putting a label to _this_ is not only futile anymore, but also painful. A lump forms in my throat from the moment I realize it doesn't matter to her whose words will be spoken last before she leaves, whose words will be etched in her mind for as long as she dares to remember.

But it shouldn't matter. Of course I'm not the last one left.

Her slender arms are rigid and timid around my middle. My palms rest carefully against her back as I pull her closer, breathing in the scent of her neatly-braided hair in the process.

"Good luck," I whisper when my cheek touches the skin of her neck, just loud enough for only her to hear. I almost instantly feel her muscles tense underneath me.

"Peeta," she mumbles against my ear and slowly begins to pull back. "Dorian's staring." Gray melts into blue for a brief moment before she rushes to nod her head, swallowing as well as confirming her words.

My eyes continue following her as she repeats her actions with Tyler and dad. Phrases that can't quite reach my or Prim's ears are exchanged among them. The youngest member of the Everdeen family welcomes my hand in her small one, taking me by surprise. My head turns to her direction, while she doesn't hesitate to offer me a beautiful smile. She understands she needs to comfort me, even if she doesn't know the reason why she should. I squeeze her fingers a little tighter in gratitude.

"Katniss, only five more minutes," I hear dad's voice. I raise both of my eyebrows. _Five more minutes for what?_

"Why did she have to make it like this?" Katniss wonders, her expression distressful. "My train's leaving in half an hour. She should have been the first one to say goodbye to me." Unfortunately, I _was_ right. If Mireille was present, Katniss's departure would have been a tad bit more pleasant for her. For all I know, it might have played a much greater role than I think in her mentality in general.

"She's out at the momen—"

"—I _know_ she's out. Why would she be here?"

"I think you have misunderstood her, Katniss." Then, he makes a little gesture towards Tyler, receiving an obedient nod. I somehow feel as if I'm missing something significant.

"Come on, Prim," my brother urges. She apparently knows as much as Katniss and I do as she looks from him to dad and vice versa in bewilderment. "We'll get Katniss's things out."

"Wha—no, I can manage," Katniss informs him what he probably already knows. He shakes his head, confusing her even more.

A crashing sound is heard from outside the living room.

"I need a pen!" Mireille's voice comes. Tyler disappears—running like a lunatic I might add—and then reappears with what she has requested, panting.

What. The. _Hell_?

"I have signed. You only need to do so, too," she tells my father. Katniss is staring at them wide-eyed. We exchange a look. My expression probably mirrors hers.

My father sits on the couch I had been leaning on minutes ago and wastes no more time as he opens a dark yellow folder, extracting stapled papers from inside. He places them on his knees.

Prim and Tyler slowly make their way out of the room, while Mireille runs to dad, showing him where to sign.

"It took me hours to talk to someone who actually knew what I was asking for," she explains.

"It's okay. You came just in time. Right, Katniss?" She shrugs, not knowing what else to say. My discomfort urges me to start taking steps backwards. This is between Katniss and her mother. I don't have the right to interfere.

Once my back is turned on them, however, I hear my father call my name. Curious to see what he possibly wants to tell me five minutes before Katniss leaves the house, I meet his eyes.

"We want you here, too. Both of you." This time, Katniss averts her gaze from mine. She looks at the floor, dad, her mother, the papers, the curtains, the fireplace—anywhere but me.

"Come and sit," Mireille instructs us. She and my father choose the smallest couch, unconsciously making it more convenient for Katniss and me to keep our safe distance from each other.

"Can you please hurry?" Katniss says from beside me.

"Sure," Mireille agrees.

"We could have had more time. We could have talked to you about it sooner, so you'd know the right reasons why we're doing this. However, it saddens me that you didn't find the courage to say anything before," dad says.

"Dad, I don't get it. I don't understand a thing of what you're saying." Then, Mireille extends her hand towards my direction, papers included.

"Take a look, Peeta." And I do. I reach for them. "Second page."

I read that again and again and again, but the words are still the same. I blink, in fear that my vision has begun to blur. I read one more time. There is absolutely no wonder I need help.

My hand seeks for Katniss's fingers. I pull her closer, ignoring the gap we have silently agreed to keep between us. Her eyes travel in an exquisite speed over the lines and letters. I watch her carefully, trying to measure her reaction in case I'm right, our unspoken rules long forgotten.

_They're divorcing. No, they're not. They can't._

"Is this…?" I make the first move, addressing my father, my voice hoarse in disbelief.

"It's not only because of guilt. It goes deeper than that." He sighs. "But guilt has also been a contributing factor. We're hoping—"

"—isn't it a bit too late?"

"Peeta," Katniss protests. It is more of a warning than a complaint.

"No, wait," I tell her and turn my attention back to our parents. "I'm not saying you've done anything," I add truthfully.

"We have been unfair to you. Multiple times," Mireille says with a faint smile.

"Even if you've been unfair, isn't it a bit late now Katniss is leaving and I—I…" Katniss moves away from me. "Why are you doing this?" I eventually wonder out loud.

_Why are you doing this now we have learned to live with it?_

My father chooses to reply to my uncompleted question from several moments ago.

"This is a wedding annulment," he tells us, managing to confirm my earlier assumptions. Part of me wants to be overjoyed, but for now I can only attempt to_understand_.

I steal a quick glance at Katniss. She's terrified, frozen on her spot.

"We just wish you would have talked to us about how you felt about the wedding," he adds. "And how you felt about each other."

It hits me. _Of course_ Tyler is not present. _Of course_ he's carried Prim away from the living room as well.

"He talked to you." It's an accusation as it slips from my lips. "Tyler," I make myself clearer.

"Does it matter whether he did or not?" I remain silent. I realize how ungrateful I appear to be at the moment. I bow my head, finding interest in the hands resting on my lap as I feel my face heat up in what can only be characterized as shame.

"I'm sorry, dad. I've known what being married to Mireille means to you. I couldn't have possibly said anything," I reason. I pack up all of the remained, yet required courage and look up. He seems tired, almost disappointed at me, even if the situation is what has exhausted him.

Surprisingly enough, Katniss is the one to break the uncomfortable silence among the four of us. I can only try not to wince by the unconscious cruelty of her words.

"I don't think we should talk about it right now," she says in a steady voice.

"This is the last chance for you to reconsider, sweetheart," Mireille tells her. The enthused part of me is slowly but surely getting close to victory. Katniss, however, seems to have different plans.

She shakes her head and I can almost hear my heart break. "I'm not going to change my mind. My train will not leave without me," she informs her mother through gritted teeth.

My father sighs as if he has been expecting this kind of reaction all along. Truth to be told, I have no idea what to expect from myself, let alone anyone else, anymore.

"We should have noticed earlier," he mutters.

"What would we have done, dad?" I ask, every single attempt of mine to wear a mask and cover my sorrowful expression failing. "How would you have reacted if I told you I'm in love with Katniss?"

This seems to be a shock for all of us. The color drains completely from Mireille's face that one could just guess she's suffering from a deadly illness slowly terminating her life, while dad looks more agitated than I recall seeing him before. I can't help wondering not only how much Tyler has told them, but also how much he knows.

But most important of all facts is this; it must be the worst move I have ever made to approach Katniss Everdeen.

In a matter of seconds she jumps from the couch, signaling the end of this probably meaningless to her conversation. She parts her lips, but when no helpful sound comes out, she decides to say the last words she could utter at the moment.

"I'm going to miss my train." She repeats that again and again like a mantra, though, her voice is quite impossible to reach my ears anymore.

There is no second look towards Mireille and dad's direction on my part. My feet move on their own accord as they follow her wherever she's going. I find her in the hallway squirming and fighting and struggling against Tyler's grasp. Her sister remains speechless, her wide blue eyes watching the scene in front of them.

"Let _go_," she cries.

"Katniss, listen to me," he yells at her, even though his mouth is literally inches apart from her ear. "Katniss, that's not your fault. It's _for_ you, not because of you." But he should know better. The accusation doesn't take too long to come.

"You talked," she whimpers. "You told them."

"For you," he repeats and holds her from her shoulders. "You have to understand." He nearly pleads with her.

"Tyler, let her go," I say in the most serene voice I can seem to muster. They both cease to move. My brother has a dumbfounded expression on his face.

"You can't be serious, can you?" His hands drop back down, releasing her. She eventually meets my gaze as if she wishes to explain her actions to me. Moments later—when she realizes there is nothing to be told—she leaves Tyler's side. She finds her things at the threshold. I can only imagine her running to catch up with her train, her new life, her new job, her new memories.

Suddenly, I feel it. The rampant happiness threatening to overcome me and make me burst from the wonderful fullness of it. The tug at each corner of my lips until my mouth hurts from grinning so much. The need to stop looking back at my brother who is as if he's facing a fool, which I'm afraid I might be just that at the moment, and help my feet finally move.

"She can't be fast with those bags she's holding. You can still—" The shake of my head interrupts him.

"I can't believe you, Peeta." He runs a hand down the length of his face. "You're truly unbelievable."

"Thanks." It's not sarcastic. It's honest. _Thanks_.

He keeps muttering incoherent complaints, but I'm not listening. I walk away from him, my fingers quickly finding their way into the drawer I know I'll find _it_.

Tyler follows me. "What the heck are you doing?" Silence. "Are you going to talk to Mireille and dad?" This snaps me out of my small search for a minute.

"Yes." I continue. I pull the drawer open, gaining better access to the contents of it. I find what I've been seeking for in about half a minute.

"What are you even gonna do with the phonebook?" he asks in disbelief once his eyes land on the object in my hands.

"Phone numbers," I mumble in response. Reading the phone book is truly unnecessary, since I have the small piece of paper in my hands from the first page. I hold it in front of me and shake it for Tyler to see.

He lifts his one eyebrow questioningly.

"Madge Undersee."


	20. Chapter XX: December&January

**A/N: My Gosh, this is the **last **chapter :( And yes, there is fluff.**

**Don't be too surprised by the content of it—it is like one of the normal chapters I write, but at the same time it's not. Even though it takes place **one and a half year_(!)_after **chapter nineteen, I wouldn't call it an epilogue, either. It's just close to it. There are also **references from previous chapters.

**The one-shot is planned, but there's still room for some **requests**. Judging by **what you read here**, think of what you would like to see in it and let me know. I'll take a short break before I write anything else, so feel free to decide. When it's written (and published), I'll just **re-upload chapter twenty **of House Of Chaos, since having an Author's Note as a separate chapter is against this site's rules.**

**Thank you all so much for your favorites, alerts, reviews/comments, recommendations, questions and advice. They were all very helpful for me to mark this story complete. They also encouraged me to develop thousands of new ideas and fix **some **of my serious problems. **I wouldn't have made it without you!

**Yeah, enough with this monster of a note. Go ahead and read the last chapter. Leave me a review if you'd like to tell me your opinion about the story in general. I would gladly welcome as well as appreciate it. Just **one last time?=)

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><p><strong>Title of the fanfic:<strong>House of chaos

**Summary:**[AU/OCs].What if Peeta and Katniss never were tributes in the Games? What if President Snow was dead? What if two people with a past suddenly decided to reunite? Would the members of the new family coexist or would they live in a house of chaos?

**Chapter 20:**(XX)

**Genre:** Romance/ Family

**Rated: T**.

**Disclaimer:** I only own the plot and the new names of the characters. Everything else belongs to Suzanne Collins.

**Special thanks to (for reviewing):**_HungerGamesLover1020__**,**__FlyAlone__**,**__GirlOnFire2012__**,**__Lgwater27__**,**__MaidenAlice__**,**__SWPeetaxKatnissAvatarTLA__**,**__TheAfterShock__**,**__muzik-luvrr__**,**__0Aud0__**,**__HGfanficfan__**,**__Serpent91__**,**__kakitamariko__**,**__Guest__**,**__PurpleDiamond78 (x3)__**,**__SkyeAllison__**,**__noelyoungbloodmellark__**,**__yeeeitscarmen__**,**__ZaraTHG__**,**__Guest__**.**_

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><p>By the moment I'm about to step out on the train platform, the icy-cold air blowing softly in my face and whistling unevenly in each one of my ears, the dark wavy strands of hair escaping my relatively loose braid and troubling my somehow blurred vision, I feel as if I might just lose my balance and fall. My stomach is in knots all over again.<p>

_This is it. There is no going back now._Better yet, there _should be no_ going back now.

I try to blink, eventually managing to clear the scene in front of me.

I realize I haven't been at the train station much. Every time the supplies for our old home in the Seam arrived from the Capitol or the other Districts, my little sister would gladly come to fetch them. My first time here, after years of unintentionally keeping my distance from this place, was when the Hawthornes left Twelve, a couple of days before the Christmas holidays ended. I distinctively remember missing their first route, for it was very early in the morning. Then, there is also _my_first route. Even though I haven't quite regretted permanently moving to Eight, I can't help the feeling of longing as it creeps its way into my heart and warms it in the most excruciating way possible.

I've literally missed so many things, so many events and changes.

"Hand me the last one?" his voice, followed by the loud whistling of the train, effectively snaps me out of my reverie.

Without a second word, I bent down, taking the last luggage in my arms and place it slowly into his own. I mimic him by hopping down on the ground, right beside him.

"Are you okay?" he asks. Although my attention is not entirely focused on him, I can only picture him eyeing me carefully from where he is standing.

"Sure," I mumble, rushing to button my coat until there is no inch of me left exposed. "Just a bit cold," I add.

"We'll be there soon," he replies, hoping to reassure me. He has no such luck, though, as I can barely control the violent shudder shaking my entire being from head to toe.

He grimaces. "But _are_ you okay?" he insists.

"I don't know," I say truthfully, not very sure of how exactly I am supposed to answer. "Are you?"

He drapes a sack over his shoulder and lifts the suitcase with an almost inaudible pained huff. I take the last rucksack on my back after shooting him a concerned glance.

"We'll see how everything goes, I guess."

At first, I debate with myself, considering which would be a decent reply for him to hear, but soon decide against it, simply nodding in agreement.

I follow his lead, even though there is really absolutely no need for it. I know my way home more than I know myself. My eyes remain on his profile, studying him closely. I can't be sure whether he is as calm as he appears to be or he just pretends not to be agitated for the sake of both of us.

"Peeta?"

I have always been the one to destroy our peace, even in the most uncommon and unexpected moments. I would like to believe I am more of a realist, though, there are some times I do acknowledge the fact that my brain works more than any other part of my body, taking control of me. Peeta usually says nothing about it—unless the line is crossed—but I can see it in the way the troubled creases and wrinkles show up on his forehead. His lips form a wry, thoughtful line, while his gaze lingers on anywhere but me before it actually meets my curious—or in the worst case infuriated—one.

He turns his head towards my direction, blinking, expecting me to voice my thoughts. I take a deep breath.

"They don't know we're going. We won't be welcome."

My words make him stop every movement, unconsciously forcing me to copy his actions.

"Don't say that, Katniss."

"But—"

"—just don't, okay?" The desperation in his tone has me questioning him, wondering whether he has the same fears as me. Under different circumstances, I would be comforted by our common anxieties. Now, however, all I can think of is that both of us need someone—I know I simply _can't_ be it, I never was, never will be—to explain our absence, the most significant reasons of our decision not to stay here, as we should probably have. On the other hand, there is no _should_ and_shouldn't_ anymore, right? My mother had made it clear from the moment she handed Peeta those papers, letting us know they had ended their initially fortunate marriage.

"We will be welcome." At first, it is as if he's attempting to assure himself. "They've been waiting for us, remember?"

I nod hesitantly. "Yes." In fact, they had clarified they've been expecting a visit by the time none of us was left home anymore. I shiver at the idea of how disenchanted as well as discouraged they might be when facing us—_me_. This is not entirely Peeta's fault.

After I had made it clear I wanted him with me, he started being just too stubborn to leave me deal with anything alone. He refused to be back in Twelve until now, until he made sure we were both ready. What Peeta and I have had for as long as we have been leaving in District Eight is certainly not something to show off, but I can't help feeling a bit pressured. I feel as if there's an urgency to convince my mother the first sacrifice she first made for me after six whole years of remaining passive wasn't for nothing.

"Father says my room is untouched." He frowns. "There's much space. But we have a little problem with the bed. It might be a bit…uh…narrow for us to fit."

I sigh. This is hardly a problem. Stopping in the middle of the street to discuss about a bed which is in a house I might not feel comfortable staying anymore seems more than just absurd to me at the moment. That is until I realize he's doing it to break the ice, diminish our anguish.

"That's okay," I find myself whispering.

"We'll find a way," he agrees. "We did fit in it a couple of years ago, after all. How hard can it be?" It is as if he's muttering to himself. I am particularly close to reminding him of the fact that a couple of years ago we were a tad bit shorter, a tad bit smaller. I huff when I remember the awkward glances we exchanged and the almost inaudible words we spoke the first time we had woken at least twelve inches apart from each other, our legs barely touching.

As I think of my current inability to leave Peeta's side at night, I realize sleeping in the same room as Prim is quite impossible—having something familiar to hold onto while adjusting to the foreign environment, in Eight, had been helpful, even though my dependence on him used to scare me to death. It still worries me sometimes.

He shakes his head in disapproval, urging me to shoot him a questioning glance as I demand access to what is going on inside his brain.

"You're not wearing your gloves." I bite my lip to keep from laughing at him. My bare hands are now quickly turning a reddish color from the cold. Truth to be told, I can't recall being very consistent concerning wearing gloves before.

"They're somewhere inside the suitcase. Forget it."

He eventually takes our things from the ground and reaches with his free, gloved hand for my nearly frozen one. He runs his thumb over the back of my palm as if there is a chance of it warming up, when in reality there truly isn't. I walk closer to him.

"Darryl will be irritated. What will we say to him?"

"That we couldn't make it to his wedding," he replies softly. Just like that.

"But—"

"—Katniss, _please_, calm down. You're freaking yourself out. Nothing bad is going to happen. Tyler said he and Prim would be the only ones home in case we decided to visit this year, this morning. Mireille is helping my father with something at the bakery."

"The bakery? It is New Year's Eve," I say confused once I register the information he has shared about our parents.

He shrugs. "I don't think whatever they're doing is for a customer. It's for the family," he assumes. I don't doubt his reasoning, but I don't examine any further details, either. If I said it's not convenient, I would be definitely lying.

"This year won't be as silent as it was the last one," I point out.

"Last year was just you, me and Madge. Not to mention she had to be with her own family after midnight. Of course it was quiet."

I gnaw the inside of my cheek. "It was nice." My tone is probably more defensive than necessary, but the implication that the silence I enjoyed so much when Peeta and I were left alone seems suddenly unpleasant to him has an odd way of bothering me.

"It _was_," he reassures me as if reading my thoughts. There is plenty of things we don't agree on, though, I'm not sure I'd like to argue with him about such an insignificant issue right now. What matters is today, tonight.

"We might be lucky and find some carrots under the table," he says suggestively after a while, effectively confusing me. "If the mistletoe it still on it, that is," he adds amused.

Realization quickly dawns on me. The events of the first New Year I had spent in the house of the Mellarks come rushing back to me. I attempt to concentrate on the fact that I should probably stop referring to them as _Mellarks_ even in my mind—I am supposed to be one, after all—but the heat refuses to leave my face after it has crept up my cheeks.

Peeta notices my blush and laughs quietly at his own joke.

"If you weren't holding all those things, I would have punched you."

He feigns surprise as he meets my eyes. "Is that a threat?"

"No." I scowl. "It is a promise."

* * *

><p>Prim's happy squeal will never get old. Even at the age of fifteen and a half she has this miraculously remarkable ability of holding me ridiculously close, anchoring herself to me, and squeezing the breath out of my lungs.<p>

She keeps mumbling my name in my braid—we share the same eye level now—while I try to let the desperate laugh finally escape me in response. Instead, the only thing to be heard is a funny, throaty sound.

"I'm sorry! I'm hurting you," she mumbles under her breath, but not before squeezing my middle one more time. Once I am released, the corners of my lips curl upwards, forming a wide smile.

The door is shut behind Peeta and it is as if she realizes he's with me just now. She runs to his side by the time he disposes the suitcase, capturing him in an embrace he couldn't escape even if he wished for it. He is caught off guard, but soon breathes out in relief as his hands are free from any kind of weight he was holding moments ago. Prim gives him a hasty peck on the left cheek, the one she can reach from the moment she looses her arms around him.

"You came," she declares what we all already know. "About time," she grunts playfully. Peeta ruffles the blonde hair on her head as if she's ten all over again. Prim, however, doesn't seem to mind. The top of her head reaches his nose—her looks and sweet smile could easily make her his little sister. She _is_ his little sister.

"I called at least four times a week," I mutter under my breath, wondering whether she has managed to hear me. The phone calls between my mother—sometimes Dorian, too—and I were particularly rare and short, yet existent and adequate.

"It's not the same, Katniss," she answers. She has heard. "The last time I saw you was five months ago," she reminds me.

_Five months ago. District Eight. The toasting._

A spark of recognition flashes in Peeta's eyes as well. Prim rolls her eyes, surprising both me and him and makes a little gesture with her one hand towards the opposite direction of the outlet.

"Come on," she encourages. She yells Tyler's name as she walks towards the bottom of the staircase. My heart beats a little faster inside my chest in what I think to be anticipation and a combination of thousands other feelings I can't quite name at the moment.

* * *

><p>"Peeta, your room isn't that bad, after all. Everything looks—" I snort, crossing my arms over my chest. "—<em>fine<em>," I spit. "Chess? Seriously?"

"Took you long enough, sis. I have been trying to convince them to do something else for hours," Tyler complains.

"I wasn't gone for so long," I retort. My eyes narrow at Prim and Peeta. "Just so you know chess is _boring_."

"High five!" Tyler says excitedly, sticking his palm up in the air for me to reach. I have to admit there is no wonder I have missed this carefree, entertaining side of him. My mother's wedding annulment has benefited us in more ways than one. I can only imagine how hard it might have been for him to try and keep everything in our family in line.

"You two are just lousy at chess, that's why you hate it so much," Peeta teases.

"Lousy at it and very jealous they can't overpower us," Prim adds, a slight smirk playing on her lips.

"Overpower you?" I repeat in disbelief. She mumbles a soft "_hhmhm_" and her fingers run over her pawns, the white ones. Peeta always lets her make the first move, just like she wishes. Thus, he takes the black ones.

I consider reminding her _I_ am the one who taught her how to play this useless game in the first place, though, soon decide against it. In reality, the only thing I was good at was following my father's instructions as he showed me how to use a knife, cutting branches from the shortest trees and making pawns of my own. Paints were rather expensive for us to afford, so we'd just mark half of the figures with our crayons for school—I could count even those in the fingers of my one hand. Finally, we also drew our own chessboard on the steps of our home in the Seam, in front of the main entrance.

Tyler speaks again, saving me from my possibly paranoid self.

"We could play another game." Prim and Peeta give him a weird, puzzled look. He stands from the armchair and pulls me close to him. "We'll ask from Katniss to teach us how to scowl. Whoever scowls the best is the winner."

_Alright. Maybe I haven't missed this carefree, entertaining side of him so much._

The familiar grimace is on my face before I have the chance to control it. The silence in the room is instantly broken by Prim's giggle. She quickly brings her hand to her mouth to hinder any more unwanted sounds or words from coming out. Moments later, though, she miserably fails. Peeta's need to follow her example is futile as well, when his laugh comes out in a combination of a snort and a cough.

As mean as that will seem to me later, I find myself being surprisingly satisfied by the fact that he chokes. Once the real reason of his _misfortune_ comes to mind, however, I am feeling far from guilty. I offer the best glare I can muster at the moment, and it is directed right at him.

Peeta's sheepish, apologetic smile only doubles Tyler's amusement.

"Oh, man," he mumbles and places his open palm over his forehead, before he shakes his head. "I'm never getting married."

_I'm never getting married. Yes. This is what I've been telling myself, too._

Tyler was aware of the fact, yet he and Prim were the only ones Peeta and I dared to invite to District Eight for the toasting, which was another surprise for everyone to hear—even me. Better yet, our siblings were who _I_ only dared to call. Peeta had absolutely no clue about the happening of the ritual—although he had made it clear he wanted, _truly wanted_, it—until he came back from work, just to find the fireplace lit on a late summer day, Prim and Tyler welcoming him after a year's absence on our part.

Peeta never truly asked this from me. The expression on his face had also betrayed how he never truly expected me to agree, if he ever decided to make this move.

"I hear everything's going okay with Miss Cartwright," Peeta teases, the tension from before nearly forgotten. Miss _slightly indecisive_ Cartwright from what I remember from Peeta's descriptions.

It takes Tyler less than five seconds to find the culprit.

"Primrose," he scolds.

I move to give Tyler a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "You can still save yourself. There's really no going back after you let her creep up on you."

He stares at me, gulping slowly and carefully, mouth agape, as I walk towards the chessboard. Everyone is too absorbed by my words to notice when I grab Peeta's king in my fist and wrap my fingers tightly around it, swearing to myself not to let go unless they change their minds about this game.

"Hey!" he and Prim protest in unison.

"Love you, too," is my response.

"Let's make chocolate cake," Tyler suggests.

"Right_now_?" He nods. "My attempts at making cakes are atrocious," I confess what he must have already learned by now.

He just shrugs. "Peeta and I will help," he reminds me.

"_Peeta_ will help on one condition," he says for himself. The second word he emphasizes—besides his name—is the last word of his sentence. That condition gives me a funny feeling I can't quite place at the moment.

"No cake wars." That's why.

"No cake wars," his brother repeats. "We don't want to traumatize little Peet, do we, Katniss?" he adds with a mischievous smirk.

I blush. _Again_. Hard.

* * *

><p>"Do you need help?" I ask my mother, surprising myself by the formality and coldness of my low voice. Her reaction, however, somehow differs than mine.<p>

She turns her head towards my direction with a smile on her face, her eyes barely meeting mine, before she continues her earlier task in the kitchen. It is almost as if she was expecting such a reaction from me—and maybe she has finally become familiar with the way I function, even though I can't exactly admit _I_ understand it fully.

"No," she lets me know. "You should go inside." Then, she looks at me one more time. "Is there anything you need me to bring you?" she asks, seeming genuinely intrigued by the answer I'm planning on giving her. Her tone makes me wonder whether she's a mother talking to her daughter or a hostess talking to a visitor who came by for the New Year's Eve.

I shake my head to clear it from any kind of similar thoughts as well as ideas. She wouldn't have done so much for me, if her children didn't mean something—anything, really—to her.

She perceives the small movement of my head as a negative response and nods in comprehension.

"Mom," I mumble after a while. She hums something after the word slips from my lips, apparently waiting for me to go on, but no further phrases come out, regardless my efforts.

Her gaze locks with mine without a warning and my breath seems to be nearly stuck in my throat. There are so many things left unsaid, there must be something I_can_ say to her, after all.

"T-thank you," I eventually manage to tell her through unusually difficult exhalations.

She smiles again. "You shouldn't worry. You and Peeta are here for only a week. If we don't take care of you now, when will we?"

I realize she believes I thanked her for her earlier offer.

"No, mom." She gives me a quizzical look. "_Thank_ you." I approach her, my steps timid and small, but steady enough and decisive. Determination is what I have been lacking from the very start of the day. "For accepting me—us," I instinctively correct myself and keep going. "For welcoming us here," I repeat.

She opens her mouth, the troubled creases on her forehead evident, as if to protest. I interrupt her possible train of thought, simultaneously preventing her from speaking. Voicing whatever she might have in mind will only make my attempts at expressing myself harder and more complicated than they already are.

_For the wedding annulment, nearly two years ago._

"For Peeta," I say instead.

She mimics my actions from before and takes a single step towards me. Closeness would have been a wonder to both of us any other time, but when her hand reaches for me this time, I don't jerk away from her, like I would normally do. Her fingers ghost ever so slightly over the fabric of my sweater, before they drop back down.

"All you needed to do was ask," she assures me gently.

"I couldn't," I profess. "I couldn't do that when I didn't even know what I wanted. Not when I thought permanently moving to Eight with Madge was the best choice I had." _I thought?_"And it was helpful, mom," I add. "Being away from everything was okay for once."

Saying it those words while facing my mother somehow feels different than speaking through a simple electronic device. It is more personal, harder for the sentences to lose their initial value.

"The first week was okay," I mutter, averting my eyes. I notice her bewilderment before I do so. "The second week was the one Peeta appeared," I explain.

"Hadn't he told you anything beforehand?" She sounds taken aback in one way or another. To say I am as surprised as she is at the moment, might be an understandment. Maybe I wasn't the only one completely unaware of his plans. At least this is what I was in the beginning.

I chuckle. "I had left Madge's number here and he…he _remembered_. He actually remembered. He called her and she let him stay at her house until we sorted things out and found an apartment. She told me _nothing_ about his phone call. He had asked her not to."

She is listening to me carefully. "It must have been a nice surprise."

It looks like I can't help the scoff. "No."

"No?" she repeats, the word a question for me to reply to.

"When I saw him there I was so…" I pause for a minute, considering the most fitting characterization. "…so _angry_," I eventually decide to say. I knit my eyebrows together, watching as the dreamy smile falls from her lips.

"I wasn't prepared for it. I thought we had agreed he wouldn't try anything—the divorce might have changed matters for him, but I wasn't affected at all by it. At first," I admit. "I was angry at him for taking the initiative to leave Twelve and irritated at Madge for agreeing to help him without asking me." I shake my head. "But they had every right to act as they wished. Neither Peeta had to get my permission to travel nor Madge had to hear my opinion about who she would host in her house."

"I would have been bothered," she tells me.

I continue without commenting on her reassurance. "Then, I was angry at myself." _Which was the worst part._"I didn't know what I felt about the situation, about both Peeta and Madge, didn't know what I _wanted_ or what I had to do. It was a perfect mess. All inside my head."

"Peeta helped you," she states matter-of-factly.

"He did," I confirm. "But I yelled at him. It wasn't pretty."

Suddenly, Prim pokes her head in the room curiously. "Mom? Katniss? Aren't you coming?"

"Of course," my mother answers.

"You should see Luke," she says with a grin, flashing her teeth. "He's gotten quite attached to Peeta's shirt."

"_That_ should be interesting," I point out.

"Nah," she retorts. "Peeta looks like he's enjoying his time with his nephew." She snorts. "Of course he is. He doesn't have _hair_." She gestures at her blonde braid with a grimace.

"Oh come on, Prim. Luke is five and a half months old. He's just a baby."

"You only need to hold him to change your mind. You won't be calling him _just a baby_ after that," she insists.

I roll my eyes, folding my arms over my chest. My eyes fall back on our mother. "Mom?" I call. "Darryl and Ingrid stayed in Twelve the whole time."

"Yes."

"Peeta and I weren't here for their wedding," I remind her. "I couldn't come. I couldn't make it so early. I just don't want Peeta to feel guilty because of his decision to be with me. It's his brother and he could have been present and—"

She makes a shushing sound, interrupting my monologue. "Darryl and Ingrid both understood your need for privacy," she says.

"You think?"

"I know it, Katniss. However, I do believe you should talk to them about it personally." Her eyes fall on Prim who's watching our exchange suspiciously. "Come on," she urges, then. "Let's go."

* * *

><p>Only when the previously empty spot beside Peeta is occupied by me, do I fully comprehend my sister's words.<p>

His sweater is now replaced by a dark olive-colored shirt (he had been wearing those a lot after a meaningless conversation including information about my favorite color—green always reminds me of the woods my father introduced to me, the woods I met Gale, the woods that ensured me the unique feeling of freedom), while the creases on the fabric don't easily go unnoticed. Seeing Luke as he literally tries to rip Peeta's clothes off him with his tiny fists is a funny sight. At some point, Peeta gets the chance to realize he needs to take care of his shirt's fifth button, his eyes searching mine for help—I infer mostly out of habit. He spots the glass of water in my hands and exhales deeply, before Ingrid extends both of her arms forward, silently offering to take her son.

Peeta shakes his head with a smile on his face as he straightens his clothes. I take a sip of my water, just big enough to quench my newfound thirst. It's not long—only a matter of seconds—before I choke.

"This never ends," Dorian jokes, making a small gesture towards the baby—I assume he's referring to his boys—and lets out a brief laugh. He turns to me, making me feel a strange urge to sink a little further in the couch. Darryl arches an eyebrow, while Tyler crosses his arms with an annoyed huff.

His next words are my undoing.

"My Katniss knows how much I want a granddaughter."

It's a miracle the water in my mouth isn't spilled all over my lap, even though it still goes down the wrong way. Peeta rushes to lean forward, taking the glass from my hands, his hand softly tapping my back until the coughing stops and my ragged breathing finally calms down.

"You okay?" he asks. I slowly nod, looking at him through glassy eyes, not completely trusting myself with words at the moment. He looks at Dorian. "_Dad_. Please."

Tyler decides to fill in the gaps for his father.

"Katniss has to be alive to give you your granddaughter," he interprets. "Please, don't kill her," he adds in mock seriousness. His immaturity does not cease to exist—not even at the age of twenty one. I have almost no time to prepare a glare for him. To my utter surprise, Peeta beats me to it.

His father already knows we're not _officially_ married. There was nothing other than the toasting—the idea of a granddaughter is simply insane.

"Um…there are three hours left," Prim announces as she takes a look at the clock, in an attempt to break the tension. I follow her gaze, just to realize there are indeed only three hours left until the New Year comes.

Darryl sighs. I watch his son moving, struggling and kicking in his mother's embrace. I wonder if the child sleeps _at all_.

* * *

><p>Once he pulls the duvet from around me, lifting it ever so slightly as he climbs into his bed, he earns an odd noise of protest.<p>

"I'm cold," I whine.

He gives me a wry smile. "Then, c'mere." He snakes an arm around my waist and drags me closer. My nose wrinkles.

"What?"

"Who's going to turn the lights off, you genius?"

He sticks his bottom lip out a little further than his upper one and I eventually realize he's trying to _pout_. I press my thumb against it.

"Let me look at it," I volunteer. "Is it swollen? Maybe you should ask my mother to treat it tomorrow morning."

"Fine, fine, I'll do it," he breathes in defeat and stands on his feet once more, making his way towards the light switch. He's back before I have the chance to have all the covers for myself, even for a little while.

Indulging the silence in the mute darkness isn't for too long—strangely enough, I am the one who breaks it instead of Peeta.

"I thought today would be bad," I mutter, mostly for myself to hear. "It wasn't bad."

"You're a dummy," he whispers. "I don't even know why you were so worried about Darryl. He didn't come in our toasting, either," he reasons.

"This is different. We didn't invite him."

"He didn't invite anyone in his toasting, either. He just wanted us here when we were not ready to come."_When I was not ready to come,_I correct in my head. He finds my hand and squeezes it as if sensing my uneasiness.

"I talked with my mom. She said we'd better talk to them." I give him a minute to process my words. "I want to. Just to make sure."

"Tomorrow," he promises.

"Tomorrow," I agree.

"You talked with Mireille," he tells me as if he hadn't found out until now. I nod against his shoulder. "You're good with her, then?"

"Sure," I mumble. "We're okay."

"At least your mother wants you," he whimpers in my hair. _Shit_.

I move backwards until I am sandwiched in between the wall and his body. I prop my weight on my elbows.

"Peeta." I lean toward him, tracing his jaw line with my index finger. "Hey," I call. "Don't even think about it." I can't see his face clearly in the darkness, but my hand can easily locate him. He has turned away from me.

This is undoubtedly neither the first nor the last time I realize our visit to District Six had been an absolutely horrific idea. Associating with the witch was not what I had been planning or wishing for, but she obviously meant _something_ to Peeta. Even though I never imagined she would ask for forgiveness, he somehow was under the impression he could fix everything—or maybe just _something_—up by making conversation, pouring his heart out to her. What she did in return, however, was nothing but take advantage of his good nature, almost making us doubt why we were in this together in the first place. The truth is that her cruel, insulting comments affected me a lot more than I had originally expected.

_It would hurt less, if she was dead_, Peeta had said—it was so unlike him, it terrified me. Because she wouldn't say anything to him, she wouldn't destroy the image he had created for her in his mind, she wouldn't push him away and make him hate her, even if he can't really _hate_. Thus, I didn't object or disagree with him on every statement he would make about her.

His hands feel numb as they travel up my back.

"Sorry I brought it up," he murmurs as I nuzzle his temple. His arms lock tightly around me, knocking the breath out of me.

"Peeta." He whispers something I can't quite catch in my ear. His name is heard one more time, the urgency increased. "Can't breathe."

We both gasp as he releases me, apologizing again.

"Happy New Year," he manages to say in the end.

"Right." I press my palm against my lips, trying to suppress a small yawn. "Happy New Year," I repeat after him.

Three minutes have barely passed before I hear his voice again.

"Are you asleep?" he asks quietly.

"Yes," I reply, keeping my eyes shut.

"You know, I have been thinking…" My muffled groan reaches his ears and he trails off, leaving his sentence unfinished.

"C'mon. Go ahead," I urge, curling a part of his nightshirt in my fist. He won't be calm unless he speaks.

"Maybe being your brother wasn't so awful," he says.

"It wasn't?" My eyes fly open.

"No, I mean it _was_, but it was nice, too. I think I would never find the courage to talk to you. Mireille and dad catching up was my chance, I guess." He pauses, then continues. "I never considered it a chance, but it still was."

"You wouldn't talk to me? Not even if I asked for a loaf of bread?"

"It depends. Would you have a squirrel?"

"Probably." I chew on my bottom lip.

"I like your squirrels. We'd have a deal."

"Deal." I laugh, burying my face in the crook of his neck.

"Why are you laughing at me?" He digs his fingers in my one side, making my throat elicit an embarrassing squeal in surprise. "Shh…we'll wake them all up." He adds something that sounds like "_so ticklish_" under his breath and hugs my ribs.

"Peeta," I protest while trying to escape. "I. Cannot. _Breathe_."

One more push and he'll fall off the bed.

* * *

><p><strong>~fin.<strong>


End file.
